


New in Town

by Junigatsu84



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 1980s, Angst, Bullying, Coming Out, Coming of Age, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, High School, Leaving, M/M, New School, New in Town, One-Sided Attraction, Stranger Things 3, byler, gay in the 80s, implied byler - Freeform, season 4, stranger things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2020-08-12 00:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20162464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Junigatsu84/pseuds/Junigatsu84
Summary: This is a series of one shots that follow the Byers into their new town.  Will faces truths he wanted to stay buried.  Eleven starts to reestablish her roots and find a family in the Byers.  There will be fluff.  There will be angst.  They.... might be out of order.  They are initially from my Tumblr: junigatsu84





	1. The Making of a Mix Tape

Mike laid down on Will’s floor. His notebook open and blank next to him. He had brought it with the hope of writing. He brought a lot of things with him to the Byers’ these days. He never really knew what to expect. Some days, he did nothing but hold El in his arms. She had trouble putting her grief into words most of the time. Some days, she needed to be alone. Those days he would stand post in Will’s room. Distracting himself, and Will, from the sign that swung in the front yard. Some days this meant writing campaigns they hoped they could play before the house sold. Other days, it meant helping Will sort through a lifetime of toys, collections, books to figure out what was worth keeping.

Today, it meant listening to the radio fill up the nearly empty house. Joyce had taken El back to the cabin to get her things. Mike had offered to come. He had wanted to come, but El had shaken her head. She was saying goodbye to Hopper and she needed to do it in her own way. Mike nodded and kissed her forehead before she got in the car with Joyce. It meant waiting to pick up the pieces when she got back. It would likely mean holding her and letting her sob on his chest. He sometimes wondered if she could hear the words inside him. The ones he had meant to tell her that day. But now, it was too late. He couldn’t say them in her grief. But all the same, he loved her.

Will couldn’t draw today. Every sketch fell short of what he saw in his mind. So, he had turned on the radio, hoping for inspiration. He popped in a blank tape, in case the right song came on.

The disc jockey’s voice announced, “It’s Listener’s Choice hour and we’ve got a special request for the White Witch herself, the goddess divine, Stevie Nicks. This is her hit from ‘83, ‘Stand Back’.”

Will’s fingers flew to the buttons and pressed record. He was relieved he caught it in time. The action was not lost on Mike. 

“Stevie Nicks?”

“It’s for El.” He defended. Mike knew he liked Fleetwood Mac, but he didn’t know just how much, and was a little embarrassed by it. Although he had meant to use El as a cover, the idea suddenly struck him. He wanted to make a tape for her. Songs that would lift her up or resonate with her. When he couldn’t bury himself in his art, Will always turned to music. Maybe music could help her, too.

Mike sat up. “You’re making her a mix tape?”

“Yeah. Something to help with- well, just something to listen to. What do you think she likes?”

Mike shrugged. “I mean she liked some of the stuff Hopper used to play.”

“I kind of want to stay away from those songs. I don’t want to make her sad. I want her to get lost in something.”

Mike sat on his knees, thinking, and asked, “Do you guys have some tapes we could look through?”

Will nodded. “I’ll get them. Can you press stop when the songs done?”

“Yeah.” Mike watched Will leave and tried to think of the songs he remembered El bobbing along to. She didn’t really dance much. Mike had tried to show her how to dance, the fun kind that didn’t involve steps, but the whole thing kind of confused her. She didn’t really understand how to let the music move her. She would get concerned about where to put her feet and when to move them. Although she didn’t dance really, when there was a song she liked, she’d bob her head or tap her feet. 

“Blondie,” Mike thought. The song began to fade and Mike pressed stop before the disc-jockey’s voice returned. Will carried in a box of tapes and records. They were being packed up. It was happening. In pieces, in parts, and Mike was reminded that their time together was limited. 

Mike peered through the box, “I think she likes Blondie.”

“Oh, nice! I don’t think I have anything by her.”

“Nancy might. I’ll bring over some stuff next time.” 

Mike and Will looked at the collection. Pickins for female singers were slim, at least the ones from their lifetime. Will suggested, “Maybe we should just look for some ballads to start.”

“Ballads?” Mike asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

Will held up Queen’s The Works album. 

Mike turned his head, “You think she’ll like it?”

“Anybody that doesn’t like Queen needs to fall off the face of the Earth.”

Mike chuckled, “Okay. Put it on.”

Will moved everything from his boom box to the stereo system in the living room. It was a tall tower that could play records and cassettes. Will set everything up and began to play the record. The very first song was the perfect lead in from “Stand Back”: Radio Ga Ga. Will and Mike sat and listened to the synthesizers weave a tapestry of sound with Freddie Mercury’s voice as the bright gold thread. Mike hugged his knees and watched Will’s lips mouth the words, each one mirroring the emotion of the song. Mike would miss these moments so much. He found himself tapping along when the band clapped. Neither boy was prepared for the immediate change in tone when the music suddenly drifted into fast guitar rifts and business-as-usual rock and roll, as if they hadn’t just been emotionally ripped apart by the story and longing of the song. Will stopped the tape and backed it up a bit so that the next song they chose would cover over that last bit. 

Mike suggested, “Maybe the next song could lift her up a bit?” Will could swear Mike’s eyes looked glassy, but maybe he was reading into things.

Will rummaged through the box, finding Electric Light Orchestra. “Living Thing” should do it, he thought. The mood transitioned them both. Will watched Mike’s hair flop around as he swung his head to the music and sang along. Will had to hold the corners of his mouth down, lest he smile like the idiot he felt like. But, thankfully, Mike’s eyes had closed as he belted out the chorus. Will joined in during the verses, since he knew them by heart. Their voices joined together, singing off key, but not caring. With each line they camped it up more, losing themselves in the song. By the time “Do Ya” came on, they were on their feet, air guitars in hand, and singing at each other. 

“But IIIIIIII never seen nothing like you!” 

Mike put his back to Will’s, leaning his head back and sing-shouting the lyrics. “Do ya do ya want my love?” 

Will knew if he thought about the situation too much he’d get blushy and ridiculous so he amped it up with Mike. He jumped on the couch, strumming the imaginary guitar. He shook his head, feeling beads of sweat in his hair from the heat of the summer and their emphatic act. Will didn’t want it to end. It was a perfect moment. They were kids again, belting out songs and pretending they were rock stars. This might be the last time they’d do this. But he wouldn’t let himself think that. He let himself get lost in the music, in this moment, in the joy of being beside Mike. The songs he was supposed to be recording for El were becoming a soundtrack for him too. He’d have to make a copy so he could remember this day forever. So that he could listen whenever he missed Mike and be reminded of home.


	2. The Locker Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand on with the angst.
> 
> ::TRIGGER WARNING::: This story involves a fight scene and attempted hazing. 
> 
> This was originally posted to Tumblr, inspired by @mallratselmax post: https://mallratselmax.tumblr.com/post/186248749907/okay-but-a-concept-will-getting-bullied-at-his

Eleven hid in the bathroom stall in the locker room. She felt overwhelmed and alone in this new place. She thought that when she finally went to school that she would have Mike and Max and everybody. But now, she only had Will who thankfully had mostly the same schedule as her. But gym was one of the few times that they were separated. They had the same time slot, but boys and girls used different sides of the gym. The day was taking forever. She just wanted to go home. But she knew that was impossible.  
_____________

Will always tried to get changed as quickly as possible. ‘Keep your eyes down,’ he’d tell himself. But he could feel his face get red every time. He hated getting changed in front of strangers. And he hated how intimate it all felt. He couldn’t understand why it was necessary. They didn’t used to have to get changed in elementary school but in high school when everybody was most self conscious about their bodies that was the time for public humiliation. 

He just wanted the day to be over. A hand slammed next to his locker and he jumped and turned to see the offender. He was half dressed, down to his gym shorts and he was tan and fit. The muscles rippled under his skin and Will felt a blush rise to his face at the closeness of it all. But he could feel the threat underneath the guy's pose. He had to be careful. 

“Hey, new kid. My friends and I were just talking about you.”

Will didn’t bite. He saw people clearing out out the corner of his eye. He needed to hurry. Will put his shirt on and tried to get his heart to calm down. 

“We’ve got a bet going on. That you,” he got closer, “are a fairy.”

Will slammed his locker at the word. He looked and saw that the locker room was empty, save for them. Everything in his body told him to run. To get out of there. He tried to get around them but the boy shoved him with his shoulder. 

“What? We just want to welcome you to school is all.”

Will tried to run past him but the two friends grabbed Will’s arms. 

“Get off me.” Will seethed. And it was instinctual, it was old, but he felt himself command them. He had felt it before. When he, or rather, the Mind Flayer called the demo dogs, when he brought his wrath down on his enemies. It suddenly felt like yesterday, like he still had the power. But he didn’t. He was powerless against these cretins. The realization of it dawned on him and he felt the fight leave him as soon as it had come.  
_________________

Something stirred in Eleven. Vibrations. She had once watched a documentary about spiders; they could feel their web vibrate when something had been caught. It was the only way she could think to describe the feeling. It was how she found people in the void. She felt them before she saw them. And she felt something again.

Will.  
________________

“You got the wings?” The muscled cretin pulled a pair of fairy wings out from his backpack as the other two held Will still.

He didn’t cry out. If it wasn’t today, it would be after school or tomorrow. He’d resigned himself to it. He had no pack to stand beside him to take up the fight. The bullies in Hawkins never did anything to this scale because, no matter what, they were in a group. Numbers mattered and he was alone.

The leader pulled out a roll of duct tape. "Let’s break it down, shall we? You’re going to sit on that bench. If you are good about it, it’ll only be a few strands of tape, you struggle and we’ll have to use more.” 

One of the guys holding Will, who looked like a running back asked, “You think the wings will stick better to his shirt or his skin?”

“Good point. I think his skin.”

The suggestion moved Will to action. He tried to rip himself from their grasp. Something in him snapped and he didn’t want to go down anymore. He was going to fight them tooth and nail. He realized it wouldn’t matter if he was compliant. They would play this game with him either way. 

“Let me go!”

There was a slam as the door was kicked in. El stood in the doorway looking like vengeance incarnate. She saw Will in the grasp of two brutes and raised a hand, an impulse she did without thinking. 

“What the fuck?” The cretin said.

El dropped her hand and grabbed the nearest thing, which was a lacrosse stick, and charged at them. The cretins dropped Will in surprise. He scrambled to his feet and out of reach. The leader caught the stick with both his hands and El kicked him in the gut hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He shoved El backwards, before doubling over. El fell backwards into Will. He caught her.

“Fucking bitch!” yelled the other creep. He charged at them. Will looked around for another stick, but instead found the bin of baseballs. He grabbed one and pitched it square in the creep’s face. 

“You prick! I’ll end you!” The other thundered and Will tried to throw another but he had already grabbed Will. El threw a punch hat his gut but the Goliathan returned a punch that landed El on the ground. 

The pain was sharp and right between her eyes and she felt herself drop to the ground. She didn’t remember falling, just hitting the floor.

"You bastard!!" Will yelled. He threw his punches wildly trying to make them land at the beast’s throat but he was shoved into the wall. The brute's grip was tight around his shirt and Will could feel his feet lift off the ground. The cretin didn’t see El. She threw all her weight into a fist that connected with his elbow and something popped. He screamed in pain and let Will go.

Will clasped onto El, “Are you okay?”

Blood was pouring from her nose. It was broken, he could tell. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the locker room. He heard the locker room door open from the gym side. He heard the teacher shouting, but it all sounded like he was underwater. The only thing he could hear was his heart beating. He ran.

He pulled El behind him. He wanted to get her somewhere safe. He wasn’t even thinking about where. His feet moved underneath him. He wished they could carry him all the way back to Hawkins. 

“Will.” She called gently. 

He wasn’t pulling her to safety. He knew it, he was dragging her. The way he dragged everybody. He was always behind, weak. When would he be strong like her? When would he learn to fight back? He shoved the door open and ran out into the yard until he got to the greenhouse. His legs collapsed under him and he couldn’t hold himself together anymore. His chest heaved and he sobbed. 

El held him tight and rocked him, the way Mike had done with her. She did her best to sooth, to try and remember the way others had comforted her, hoping something would help. Will clutched her shirt and squeezing his eyes shut. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw someone, the person he wished was there more than anybody else. The person he wished was holding him and he felt so defeated. 

He wondered what he did to give himself away. How did they know? How did they always know?  
________________

Will and El sat outside the office. El held an ice pack to her face. Will’s arms felt like they’d been in a vice grip. He knew he had bruises on his arms, but he hadn’t told the nurse. El had it worse and it would have been awkward to hold the ice packs around them anyway.

They saw Mrs. Byers walk in. Will could practically see scorch marks where she walked, she looked like she’d set the place on fire just by standing in it. 

They both stood up. When she saw Will and El, her fire cooled for a moment. She cupped a hand to first El’s face, “What happened?” A hand touched Will’s shoulder and he winced. The action was not lost of Joyce. 

The fire returned. She snapped her head towards the secretary. “What happened?” Sparks. 

“The principal is expecting you. He'll explain everything. You can go ahead on in.”

Will and El sat back down and listened to what started as a conversation and morphed into what sounded like an exorcism. 

“THEY WHAT?!?!?! What THE HELL kind of school are you running?”

“Ma’m, please-”

“I'M HAVING TROUBLE UNDERSTANDING WHY THEY'RE BEING SUSPENDED! FOR DEFENDING THEMSELVES?!?!”

They couldn’t hear the principal anymore.

“YOURE TELLING ME THOSE PSYCHOPATHS ARE STILL ALLOWED IN SCHOOL?”

“They’ve been suspended too-”

“HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT THEY ARE GOING TO COME BACK?! HOW ARE THEY NOT ENROLLED IN NIGHT SCHOOL NOW? Are they on the football team? Cause if they are I swear to God-”

“I want to have a rational-”

“DON’T YOU TELL ME TO BE RATIONAL!! MY CHILDREN WERE ASSAULTED!”

The door flew open and she cooled herself enough to say to the secretary. “Will you please inform my son, Jonathan, that we’re going home?”  
_______________

Will wished he could have gone in the car with Jonathan, but he knew better than to ask.

El answered his mother’s every question, in her own limited speech, which then caused Joyce to turn to the backseat, looking to Will for clarity. He should have prepped El, to answer as little as possible. But it was too late. Now his mom knew everything and she was going to bring rains of hellfire down upon that school, and it would make it all so much worse to have his mother go up to bat.

El turned back and Will saw a familiar look that almost made him laugh. It was a look his friends had shared over the years when they’d gotten into trouble and had to face the wrath of their mothers. He couldn’t help but smile and shrug. He did have a pack after all.  
______________

Epilogue:

Joyce tended to their wounds. But had damn near brought the apartment down when she saw the bruises on Will’s arms. Jonathan played the role of calming her down, but he was determined to find out their names at school the next day and seriously contemplated cutting their brakes. 

She dug into the freezer and handed Will packs of frozen vegetables to put on his arms. He sighed and obliged, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good at this point. El saw her grab something else from the freezer. A familiar yellow box. She watched as the woman put them into the toaster and brought out every possible sugary ingredient and put it on the table. 

“Tomorrow,” she said, “I’m showing you both how to fight.”


	3. Of Boredom and Makeup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Fic request for @willbyersbowlcutisgay :)))

Will laid down, his headphones plugged into his stereo, listening to the ethereal strings of “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” weave together a story in his mind. He was close to an idea for a drawing. He was getting a general idea of various pictures, but he didn’t have the thread to bind them together. Something to make a coherent plot. It didn’t matter if people couldn’t see the whole story from one painting. He needed to know it first.

This drawing assignment was the only thing left to do. The suspension for fighting would last the week, but the work had been done, at least for him. The remainder of his days would likely be spent tutoring El. She was wicked smart, particularily in science and math, but years in a lab hadn’t taught her the subtleties of the English language. The party had tried to catch her up, taking turns tutoring her in one subject or another. Now, it was just Will, Jonathan, and Joyce. 

Most of yesterday had been spent trying to help her with the workload. But she got easily frustrated and it had been a trying day. Today, they were taking a break. Will heard the crackle of the record as the brass in the song faded and listened as the sounds escalated and welcomed him to the machine. An idea crawling out, haunting images from the movie Metropolis, pipelines and steam turning into a creature with an open mouth consuming, feasting.

He felt a shadow on his face. He opened his eyes and saw El standing over him.

He gasped and threw off his headphones. “Jesus, El!”

She seemed surprised by his reaction and immediately apologetic. Will forgot sometimes how childlike she really was. 

He softened his tone, “Is everything alright?”

She held up the Walkman he let her borrow. “Out of batteries.”

“Oh. Crap. Okay. We’ll have to get some next time we go to the store.” He popped it open and saw she was listening to the David Bowie’s The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust. A smile lit up his face. “Do you like it?”

El nodded. 

Will took the tape out. “Do you want to listen to it in my room?”

El brightened at the idea, “Sure.” 

He pressed the stop button, moved the needle off record, and took his headphones out. He put the tape in the bottom section of the stereo that played cassettes and hit play. The room filled with a dance between the piano and Bowie’s vocals. Will’s grin hadn’t faded. He got his sketchbook out at his desk. 

“I’m gonna draw for a bit. You can bring whatever you want in here.” 

El got the magazines, mirror, and make up bag from her room. She set herself up on the floor. Will saw this out of the corner of his eye and stifled a sigh. Just when he had thought they had something in common, he’d been reminded of how different they really were. 

He couldn’t understand her. She had so many conflicting things. She was this total badass but also sensitive like a child and then she’d do totally girly things that just drove him crazy. What did Mike even see in her? 

And there was a pang, like a string out of tune. There it was. The underlying reason for it all. Will hadn’t put words to it. He didn’t want to. There would be so much to admit. So many ugly words he didn’t want to face. He pulled out his charcoal and blackened his fingers in the tactile material. He let himself get absorbed in the motions, the values, the dark shadows and gradients.

He didn’t bring his head up until he heard the click of the tape. He realized it was probably close to lunchtime. “Hey El,” he turned, “Do you want something to-”

But he didn’t finish. He couldn’t. Because when she’d turned, he saw the face of Ziggy Stardust. Perfectly rendered. The golden sun on her forehead, the red and gold on her eyes fading as they spread off her lids and into her bone structure. His mouth hung open. 

“Does it look okay?” She asked.

He couldn’t fathom it. She was every bit the badass he had thought. And holy shit. She actually WAS artistic. She could draw little more than stick figures, it had been a creative outlet that had been stolen from her as a child, and she got much too frustrated with her lack of progress to try at all. But, at putting on colored powder, she was a Van Gogh and Will admired her for it. 

He realized he hadn’t said anything. “El… that’s amazing. How did you do that?”

She held up a picture from a magazine: The Rolling Stones. 

“Just from the picture? No tutorial or anything?”

She shook her head. “Just the picture.”

“That’s incredible.”

She beamed. 

“Umm.. Are you hungry?” He asked.

She nodded. He scrubbed the charcoal from his hands in the kitchen and made them both PB&J. But he couldn’t get an idea out of his head. It was embarrassing and he didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to ask. After lunch she grabbed a stack of napkins. 

Will tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“Wiping it off.”

“What?! But you just finished! You’re not going to keep it on?”

“I wanna try the other one.” 

Will straightened. “The one with the lightning bolt?”

She nodded. Will looked at the clock. They had a while before anyone came home. Long enough to… No. No. It was ridiculous to even think it.

There was an intense internal struggle. But the idea of looking in the mirror and seeing Bowie looking back at him was too strong. “Youcoulduseme,” he blurted. 

Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

Will averted his eyes, “You can use me. For the makeup.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Will shook his head, looking away. “I don’t like make up or anything. But you worked so hard on that. And it looks incredible. It would be like washing artwork down the drain. And it’s only because it’s Ziggy Stardust. I was thinking of being him for Halloween, anyway.” 

He stopped his ramblings, feeling like he was blabbering to an empty room. When he looked back at El, she was practically glowing, “It’s artwork?”

Will nodded. “Of course.”

She turned back still beaming. He followed her to the bedroom. A knot suddenly settling in his stomach. All the things people would say if they saw. But who was there to see? It was less that others would see, it was that he would know what they’d say. That maybe all those things they said would be right. What if he enjoyed it? Would that make him the fairy everyone thought he was? 

He sat down in front of El and looked at the magazine with David Bowie’s visage looking back. He wondered if Bowie was ever called that. What if he’d listened to them? How much of his art would he have cut himself off from? How much expression would he have silenced? The thought was strong enough to ward off his worries. The negative words still chattered, but he mentally told them to piss off. 

El picked up her palette and brush. She held the colors up to his face and looked back at the picture. Will watched her work. She laid out all the cast off make up given to her by Nancy and began selecting her colors, moving them in front of Will. She held out her hand to Will and he looked at her curiously.

She said, “I need your hand. To try the colors.”

“Oh!” He gave her his hand and she picked up a shimmery white and applied it to the back of his hand. Her touch was warm and delicate as she held his hand. He thought the sensation of the brush would tickle, but it didn’t. It just felt nice. He relaxed while she doused his hand in eyeshadow. Once she was satisfied with the color selection, she moved onto his face.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

He did and felt his nerves ripple as she touched the brush to his cheeks. He wasn’t used to his face being touched. He realized how much trust this required and wondered if that was why girl friendships were so different than guy ones. They had an open trust. Not that he didn’t trust his friends. But it was different. If any one of the guys in their party sat down with his eyes closed, there was a 50/50 chance someone would fart or burp in their face. It just was that way and Will had never questioned it. But this was so… gentle. 

He felt like a canvas and it was a strange experience. It involved a lot of waiting. But the experience was overall pleasant and he didn’t want it to end. At least until she got to the eyes. 

“Stop squinting.” She said, annoyed.

He opened a eye. “It’s kind of hard when-”

“Close them!”

He shut his eye again. “When you are putting something directly on my eye. It’s instinct to squint.”

“Raise your eyebrows and you won’t squint.”

Will tried and forced himself to keep his eyelids taut. 

When she got to his forehead, she clipped his bangs with bobby pins to the top of his head. Having his hair touched just about put him to sleep. He found himself wishing that it wasn’t just something assigned to girls. He wished that guys had been allowed to do that stuff too, instead of having to wait for a haircut to have such affection to be bestowed. He wondered if it was wrong to question that though. 

Her hands left his face and he opened his eyes. She looked him over and nodded. “I think… it’s done.”

Will sat up, excited and also a little nervous. “Can I look?” 

She nodded. He took his time getting to the mirror. Will worried that he might look ridiculous. Maybe it had all been a trick and his trust a slap in the face. But when he got to the mirror and saw Ziggy staring back, he felt stinging at the back of his eyes. He couldn’t help it. 

The trademark lightning bolt was striking across his face and the red glow flowing from his eyes seemed like some power had washed over him. He felt stronger. He felt powerful, like he had something no one could take away. In that moment, he loved the person he was, wholly and completely. The makeup was a mask, but it reflected more of himself than he’d ever let show. In that moment he accepted himself exactly as he was. 

He knew the moment was fleeting and he’d go back to facing the demons in his mind. He’d have to hear his mental record play the same discouraging songs about his shortcomings, his flaws, the things that made him believe he was broken. But right now, none of it mattered. In this moment, he knew he was stronger than all that.

“It’s perfect.” He said. He looked back at El in her Bowie make up and a thought popped into his head of her being his fairy godmother. And he chuckled. He felt happy and ridiculous and overwhelmingly grateful. He wrapped his arms around her without a second thought. 

The affection surprised her and a warm smiled nestled into her cheeks. She leaned her head on his shoulder into the embrace, thankful to finally have a brother. 

They played as many Bowie albums as they could while Will worked on a new drawing. This one was filled to the brim with color. He used colored pencils for general outlines of his own silhouette and filled it with color from his chalk pastels. He drew bright streams of sun that broke through clouds, which looked like the nebulas he’d seen in his astronomy books. There were streaks of lightning going to the edges of the paper. He hoped it conveyed the strength he had felt, the beauty of the moment he’d seen in the mirror. He’d have to ask Jonathan when he got home. El wasn’t one for interpreting artwork but she was enthralled at watching his creative process. 

They didn’t take the makeup off until after both Jonathan and Joyce got back. Joyce insisted that Jonathan take their picture. When the pictures were developed, El kept one on her vanity and Will kept one in his drawer. He’d take it out on dark moments when the inner monologue got too loud, when he needed to remember his own strength. Sometimes it worked, but not always. When it didn’t, he knew he could go into El’s room and he’d let her practice her craft on him.


	4. What’s It Worth?

Will had never dreaded the weekend as much as he did now. It was Friday, which meant it would be Monday before long and he’d have to go back to school. An anxious feeling laid in his gut for most of the day. He tried listening to music to distract himself. He tried drawing and cleaning his room but no matter what he did, the feeling refused to move. 

When Joyce got back to the apartment, she could sense it. The whole place felt filled up with nervous energy. She looked over at El, who sat on the couch, her homework spread out in front of her and the TV on. She set her things down and walked over to El, planting a kiss on her forehead. 

“How was your day, sweetie?”

“Good.” She shrugged but a corner of her mouth was still upturned in a smile from Joyce’s sweet gesture. The affection was given so openly and willingly, El was still sometimes surprised by it. In the few months she had been living with the Byers, she had been surrounded with love. Hopper’s love had been quiet. His affection was different. It came in big squeezes, bedtime readings, and chocolate syrup over waffle towers. 

The only way El could think to describe the Byers’ love was like the smell of cookies baking. The way it could fill up the air and surround so completely. There was love in every gesture, a language between all of them. El immediately warmed up to Joyce and found out how to speak that language, but she was still learning with Will and Jonathan. 

“Do you need help with your homework?” 

El shook her head. As much as she would have loved Joyce’s help, the attention, the closeness of Joyce leaning over the table with her, she wanted to do this on her own. She was getting the hang of it. Joyce gave El’s shoulder a squeeze and went over to Will’s room. 

She delicately knocked, even though it was ajar. 

“Come in.”

Joyce opened the door fully and saw the room was spotless. Not a good sign.

“Hi, honey.”

Joyce could see the relief wash over his face. He had been holding onto something all day. To see him relax like that was the evidence of years spent building up that trust. They knew they could open up about whatever was bothering them and that was worth more than gold to her. She was over to Will in two strides and swept him up in a hug. 

Will leaned on her more than he meant to. She was smaller than him now. The thought stung. He was too old for this. He shouldn’t be leaning on his mother for this stuff. He should be able to handle it. When would he grow up? He wondered. She hugged him tight and the pressure brought him back down and out of his thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

There was no question about it. She knew. So, there was no point in hiding it. 

Will sighed into her shoulder. “I…” He couldn’t get the words out.

He thought, ‘I wish we were back home. I wish I had my friends. I don’t want to go back to school.’ 

He chided himself for being childish. There was no point in saying what he wanted. He knew it was impossible. So he settled for the truth. 

He whispered, “I hate this school, Mom.”

She sighed and held Will’s head. It had been the hardest decision to leave. But she had no choice. Hopper was gone. The gate had nearly been opened. And now the government knew that the Russians were after that technology. 

Things were likely being set in motion, decisions made. What would that mean for her family? Dr. Owens has looked out for them, but who was to say he’d still be in charge? What if someone tried to find El and continue Brenner’s work? What if someone tried to examine Will for his connection to the Shadow Monster or for effects on being in that place? If they stayed in Hawkins, they would have been sitting ducks and she would have been the only adult to stand in their way. It was too big a risk to take. 

She knew her kids understood that. She made sure to explain it because they deserved to know. Joyce knew what moving meant for them. For El, she had to give up the only home she’d ever known and much of the people who had become her family. For Jonathan, it meant stealing him away from someone he loved and was looking to build a future with. 

And for Will, it meant pulling one of his strongest support systems: his friends. They helped get her boy back as much as Hopper had. Mike especially had been a big part of Will’s recovery the year following his disappearance. 

And now, Will only had her, Jonathan, and El. She knew there was going to be fallout from the decision she had to make and she felt so guilty for it.

She offered, “You don’t have to go back.”

He pulled away to look at her. “What?”

“We could try homeschool. Or I can look for a private school around here.”

The offer was tempting. But it felt cowardly. And then who would be there to look after El? After that fight, Will knew those pricks would be looking to retaliate. He couldn’t leave her alone. And having her homeschooled with him? She had spent almost her whole life cooped up. She had been looking forward to school. He couldn’t take that away and he couldn’t ask for his mom to pay tuition for a private school.

He shook his head. “This isn’t something I want to run from.” He thought, ‘Unless it’s running back home.’ 

She cupped his face in her hand, “You’re a Horowitz for sure.” Joyce came from a family of strong wills and stubbornness. Among the changes when they moved was changing all of their names from Byers to her maiden name. It was an adjustment but she was happy to have it back. Joyce added, “But the offer is there if you change your mind.”

Will nodded, “I know.” He dropped his hands and Joyce let him go.

She looked him over, wondering when he’d grown so much. Just then, she noticed Will’s sleeve. The shirt no longer covered his wrist. It was halfway up his forearm. And a thought struck her. Had his clothes been a part of the reason he’d been targeted? How had she let him go to school with clothes that didn’t fit. She looked down at his pants and saw his ankles sticking out.

“We never went back to school shopping!” She exclaimed.

“It’s okay, Mom.” He coaxed.

“”No! No, it’s not! These clothes are way too small! And you’ve been wearing them to school! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t wearing these clothes, I was wearing Jonathan’s.”

She rubbed her eyes and tried to ignore the feelings of inadequacy that she had been fighting her entire life as a mother. She always felt like she was coming up short. That she missed things like this. Something Karen Wheeler never would have let happen. She stopped the thought in its tracks. She knew better than to compare herself to Karen. That wasn’t fair to either of them. She nodded. She’d make it right.

“We’re going to go shopping tomorrow. I’m taking both you and El to get some new clothes.”

Will rolled his eyes. Why was she doing this now? He shook his head, “Mom, I’m fine. I don’t need-” 

“You can’t go on borrowing Jonathan’s clothes. You need your own clothes.” She said it matter-of-factly. Will knew better than to fight her on it. 

“Okay, Mom.”

Joyce knew she came on too strong, she could hear it in his voice. When she walked out of the room, she put her head in her hands. Now wasn’t the time to have brought it up. It had been to make herself feel better more so than him. She looked up and saw El peeking over from the couch. Joyce couldn’t help but smile at the curious look on her daughter’s face. 

She came back into the living room. “Did you eat?”

El nodded.

“Real food, right?”

El nodded, “Mac and cheese is real food?”

Joyce looked at the clock. It was just before 8. It was a little late to be cooking. “For tonight. We’ll say yes.” She sat down with El on the couch. “We can’t stay up too late. Tomorrow we’re going to go shopping for back to school clothes.”

El’s eyes lit up. “Just you and me?”

“Will needs some clothes, too.”

El nodded, realizing how much she had wanted it to be just her and Joyce.

Joyce leaned in, “But we can drop him off if gets to be too much of a sour puss.” 

El smiled again and leaned against Joyce, who wrapped an arm around her. They watched the commercials and waited for Miami Vice to begin.  
______________________ 

Will sat in the back of the car. He wasn’t looking forward to the excursion. He only had two days until they went back to school. He wanted to be home, drawing, listening to music, and trying to forget the hellhole he’d have to go back to on Monday.

El was bobbing her head to Blondie on the radio and Joyce was singing along. They pulled into the Bradlee’s parking lot and Will mentally groaned. Why did it have to be a department store? 

As Will followed them into the store, he watched El, who seemed overjoyed. It wasn’t just the shopping. She kept looking back at Joyce with a beaming, excited smile. It felt odd to be sharing his mom at this age and to see just how much El sought after that attention. Will didn’t want to rain on their parade.

“I’m gonna go over to the guys’ section.”

Joyce turned. “Alright, honey! We’ll be in the juniors section.”

Will nodded. He went directly over to the clearance rack and started flipping through. Nothing really stood out to him. They all seemed… preppy. Like something people wore at a tennis club. He finally came across a pair of jeans. He glanced at the price and his stomach turned. It was still high, even on sale. 

He looked back at his mom and El. El was piling the clothes in the cart and a sick feeling rose up. El didn’t understand money. She had no concept of finances. The things he had learned to be mindful of from a young age. He’d learned not to ask for.

He had to explain to her. But how? And when? His mom wouldn’t try to buy her all that right? 

He made his way over, jeans still in hand. 

Joyce looked down. “Is that all you’re getting?”

“I just want to try them on real quick.” He was racking his brain. How could he tell El? He looked at the pile. “How many people are you shopping for, El?”

She looked at Will and tilted her head. The answer was obvious: one. Which meant there was something she was missing. “Sarcasm?” She asked. 

Will suddenly felt awkward. Social cues didn’t work. And he immediately felt bad for his passive aggressive tone. “Yeah.”

She looked at the clothes. “Too much?”

Joyce jumped in. “El, you’re fine. You pick what you like and the things that fit and you like best, we’ll keep.” 

She nodded, satisfied, and continued to flip through. 

“I’m gonna try these on.” Will went into the dressing room, his face hot. He whipped off his shirt and threw it against the wall. There was a feeling crawling up inside of him that he was ruining their good time. But he shoved it down and focused on the anger instead. All those years of pinching pennies, of buying clothes at the end of one season when they were on sale. Of taking hand me downs from friends. Of saving up for their winter coats and jeans. 

And now that she had a daughter, she was suddenly okay spending money? 

The thought bubbled up and his anger cooled. The thought felt wrong. It didn’t feel right to be mad. And so the anger turned in on himself. He stepped out of his pants. He looked at the marks the button had made on his waist. It was a discomfort he’d forced himself to get used to. He had been waiting for Jonathan to grow more in the hopes he could just have his. When he slipped on the new jeans, the measurements fit hugged him in all the right places. They felt comfortable. 

He remembered looking at Steve in jeans like this and he felt his cheeks go red. He had looked more times than he should have. And a hope sang. Maybe at this school, things would be different. Maybe he could find someone here, instead of pining for his best friend. Maybe he could wear the look he’d seen on Steve Harrington. That cool ease, that confidence. But he saw the red marks along his waist poking out. 

This is what he’d always be underneath though. He unzipped the jeans and threw them off. He tugged his old uncomfortable pants back on, feeling worse now. 

He walked out and saw his mother waiting in the space between the men’s and women’s changing room. 

“How’d it go?”

Will hung them up on the return rack. “They didn’t fit.”

Joyce eyed up her boy. Will could feel it. She knew. She linked her arm in his and leaned on him. “Ah, well. This store doesn’t seem to have much of your style. We can try someplace else.” 

The thought of going to another store, into another changing room made him feel ill. He leaned his head back on his mom’s. 

El came out with a flowery dress, her Converses, and a denim jacket. She smiled and spun around. Joyce went over and they looked in the mirror together. Will crossed his arms and tried to shove the ugly feelings down.   
_____________________

The clothing pile had shrunk considerably by the time they got up to the checkout counter. There were only a few items but Will added them up in his head. It would definitely be over $100. 

Joyce gave El a few dollars. “Would you mind ordering us some food at the counter?” She pointed at the sitting area where there were concessions. “We’ll meet you over there in a bit.”

El nodded and headed over. Joyce glanced at her son. She debated whether she was doing the right thing. 

“Nothing stick out to you?” Joyce asked.

“No, Mom.”

“Not even these jeans?” She took them out of the cart. She had seen the look in his eyes when he’d put them back. She knew by now the look and grabbed them off the rack. 

“Mom! I had put them back.” He tried to grab them. 

“But they fit you didn’t they?”

‘Why is she doing this?’ Will thought.

He lied, “No. They were uncomfortable.” He sucked at lying. He could hear it in his voice.

She put them in the cart and stared at him, hard. He squirmed under her gaze. 

She asked, quietly, “Will, why did you put them back?”

“Because…” He felt ashamed. His face was red. He mumbled. “They… they’re too expensive…”

She looked at the price tag. “Sweetie. This is what jeans cost. And this is a good price.”

“Well, how are we supposed to afford it, when you’re buying El an entire closet?” He snapped. His eyes widened, realizing what he’d said.

Years ago, Joyce used to fire back when people snapped at her. It had been one of the reasons she’d had such a difficult relationship with her own mother. They would sling harsh firey words at one another until their relationship had crumpled to ash.

She swore to never do that. And so when she looked at her sweet boy, who had for the first time in his life, lashed out at her. She looked past the anger and saw the jealousy, the bitterness, and the hurt. All those years of scrambling to make ends meet, no matter how much she tried to shield them from it, had taken their toll.

“I know we had to be frugal but I tried to make sure you got something new every year. That you weren’t just wearing hand me downs. I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you think you aren’t worth new clothes, too.”

“That’s not it.” Will could barely press the words out. He felt embarrassed and guilty and worse than ever. Why did they have to do this here?

“Things are different now. We don’t have a mortgage hanging over us. I have the money from selling the house.”

“But what about money for Jonathan to go to college? How are you supposed to afford that?”

He struck a nerve and she fired back, “Don’t you lecture me about bills. I’ve been paying them off for longer than you’ve been alive.” 

Will looked away. This was all new territory for him. He wasn’t used to hear that tone from his mother directed at him. He wasn’t used to fighting like this. He wanted to storm away but where would he go?

She pressed her hand to her forehead and exhaled. “I shouldn’t have snapped. You’ve been watching me sweat bills all your life. You’re old enough now to be moneywise. I just…”

“Ma’m?” The cashier asked. The woman in front of them was carrying her bags away. Joyce shook herself and started loading the clothes on the belt. She turned to Will and handed him the jeans. 

“It’s your decision, sweetie.”

Will held them and watched her load on the other items. Would putting them on the belt mean he lost? That she was right? He thought of putting them back. But what would be the point? Would that really be a victory? It just felt like he lost either way. He put them on the belt and refused to look at her. He hated this.  
____________________

Will sat in the back of the car again, with the window rolled down. El could tell something had been off between them. The car ride was quiet as had been their lunch. 

She looked out at the houses as they drove by and smelled the fall air. They passed one house that was fully decorated for Halloween. Something lit up in her. She’d get to dress up for Halloween this year! She could go trick or treating! 

“Can we go Halloween shopping?!”

Joyce turned. “Like for costumes?”

El nodded fervently. 

Joyce’s eyes flicked to Will in the back who seemed to have perked up. 

“Sure.” Joyce looked around at the little shops lining the Main Street, one of which was a store featuring quilts and all kinds of fabrics in the window. She didn’t quite have the time to make full blown costumes like she did in previous years. She’d have to piece them together. As the street turned from quaint downtown shops to more commercial properties, she saw a large building that looked like a warehouse. 

The sign read “Everybody’s Thrift and Salvation Store.”

She pulled in. “I can’t make them from scratch this year, but maybe we can find some bases here and I’ll tailor them.”

Will sat up. David Bowie. That’s who he wanted to be this year. There was a hope at finding hidden treasure. He flipped through the catalog in his head of outfits he’d seen in magazines and album covers and music videos. Maybe there would be something here.

The second they got into the store, they were hit with an immediate dank smell. The scent of hundreds of different houses all at once. Not all of them good. Will looked over at his mom, who looked disgusted and uncertain that this was a good idea. 

“We won’t stay here long.”

He and El nodded.

Will made his way over to the men’s section. There was a stack of paper bags with a sign: “Fill a bag- $5.” He stared at the sign and something in him relaxed. He didn’t have to fret about money here. He grabbed a bag and started looking down the aisle. He started off searching for Bowie clothes but instead found himself flipping through the rack lined with jeans. He kept piling jeans that were his size in his arms. He realized he’d need a cart and grabbed one. 

The smell didn’t matter to him anymore. He didn’t have to worry about money for once. And he was finding things he liked. 

He started making his way through the shirts and gasped at discovering gold: a Pink Floyd band shirt. 

“Who is God’s name would get rid of this?” He said to no one in particular. He was surprised when he’d gotten an answer.

“It’s insane what people just throw away.”

Will jumped and turned to the voice. A man who looked to be in his 20s was leaning against the other side of the rack. He had hair higher than Steve, which Will hadn’t thought possible. It had blonde streaks that vaguely reminded him of a skunk. He had all the confidence of a Harrington but he dressed like a punk. Minus the polo uniform of course.

He smiled, “Didn't meant to startle you.”

Will’s heart was jumping so high he could practically feel it in his throat. This guy was-

“So, I have to ask, what’s your favorite album?”

He had to find his voice. He had to play it cool and the question brought him back. “You mean I have to choose between The Wall and Wish You Were Here?”

“You can have two favorites. It’s The Wall for me, but only because I saw it live.”

Will knew he was bragging. But he couldn’t help it. “You’re shitting me! You saw them live?!”

The guy grinned again. ‘God, he’s gorgeous,’ Will thought. ‘Shit.’ He wanted to stomp the thought. ‘Don’t be weird. Don’t be weird.’ He coached himself. 

“Yeah. My dad’s security for concert arenas. Occasionally, there are some sweet gigs that I can crash.”

“That’s amazing.” Oh, God, he felt like a dork.

The guy shrugged. He was clearly eating it up. Will could see his ego inflating a bit. He wondered if he’d start acting like a jerk soon. Maybe then, at least, he could stop swooning over the thrift store clerk.

“Well, considering the fact that you seem to have good taste, why don’t I show you the treasure trove?”

Will raised his eyebrows.

“I put the best stuff over here. Come on.” He waved and Will followed. He looked down, without meaning to and blushed. The guy had some nice… jeans.

He lead Will over to the center of another rack where there was just hordes of band tees.

He started flipping through them. “Holy shit.”

“I know, right?”

“How come they are still here? Why have you not absconded with them?”

“Oh believe me, I have. But really, it would be greedy to take all of them and I’d miss reactions as precious as yours.”

‘Precious?’ Was this guy flirting? Was he making fun of him? He was over analyzing things again. Sometimes he wished he could just shut his brain off.

“So,” the guy continued, “What brings you in?”

“Looking for…” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to say that he wanted to be Bowie for Halloween. What if he thought he couldn’t pull it off or laughed about it? “Back to school shopping…”  
He wanted to hit himself. That just made him seem poor. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Ahh. Undermining capitalism by buying used clothes. The mark of a true anarchist.”

Will looked at this man, who seemed to have dropped out of the sky, who had this infectious smile and attitude that lifted him out of the cloud that had hung around him all day. 

“I’m guessing you’re new, aren’t you?”

Will nodded. 

“Then, you’re going to need some armor.”

“Armor?” 

“Yeah. High school can be vicious to new kids. So, you got to go in battle ready. You wear stuff that will say, ‘Don’t fuck with me.’”

Will laughed, “I don’t think there’s anything that could make me look like that.” He realized how depressing that sounded. He chided himself for bringing down the mood.

The guy shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the case. I pride myself on knowing the fighters when I see them. You look like a fighter.”

Will blushed a deep shade of red. He couldn’t express how much those words meant to him. He wanted to stitch them onto his clothes. 

He looked down, unable to hold the gaze anymore, “Thanks.”

“No problem. Stick to black and jeans, if you’re going for the badass look. I’ll see if I can dig up some patches from the nickel section for you.”

Will looked up and said with as much gratitude as he could, “Thank you.” He wished there was a bigger word for what he felt, something more he could say. He also hoped he wasn’t being too sappy. He turned back to the rack and started flipping through the clothes. 

“He’s nice.”

Will jumped again and saw El beside him, “Jesus Christ, El!” 

But she held her smile. She had seen it, the glow in his cheeks and Will’s eyes. 

A fear ran through him. What if she saw? Could she tell? Her smile was knowing but also playful. She didn’t know that it was wrong for a boy to like another boy, did she? It was one of those things he’d have to explain. But maybe he didn’t have to just yet. 

She seemed genuinely happy. Will thought he might be reading into things but it was entirely possible that she wouldn’t care that he was gay. That she’d accept him simply because she didn’t understand. She knew Will first and that might be enough. 

It put him at ease. He wanted to tell her. Not now, but someday. Maybe sooner, maybe later. But he wanted her to know. 

He watched her flipping through the clothing rack. “This is the boy’s section, El.”

“Some days I want to wear dresses, some days I want to look...” she smiled, “Like an MTV punk.”

He smirked and looked through the clothes alongside her. They could wear their armor together.

Joyce tried not to touch anything. She had always shied away from thrift stores. It was a distinction she’d made for herself. They had to be frugal but they were not that poor. 

But then, here was her son and daughter digging through the racks of clothes and holding up shirts like treasures. It took everything in her not to visibly cringe when Will told her he was going in the dressing room to try things on. She forced a smile and tried not to think about whatever sweat and disease might be still latent in those clothes. She’d just have to put everything through the wash. Twice to be safe.

But then she saw them: El, sporting a black leather jacket, and Will, in high waisted jeans and some band shirt. El waved him over to the mirror and they posed like rock stars and laughed.

She could see him coming out of his shell, the way he had with the party. He could see him compliment El and her sweet smile. Her children’s happiness would always be worth it. She wished Will had been comfortable enough to know he was worth new clothes, and she hoped to make him realize it. But for now, he needed her support. If this place gave him a reason to smile, she’d come here every week if he wanted her to. That was what it meant to her and it was worth more than gold.


	5. Wearing Armor to School

Will hit snooze for the 4th time. He stared at the clock, begrudgingly, as if glaring at it would change anything. He had to go back to school today. It was a feeling that made his whole body heavier, especially his eyelids. He ducked his head underneath the pillow and wished the day away until he felt someone flop onto his bed. 

“Jonathan. Get off.”

“Not Jonathan.” El replied. 

Will bolted upright. Then, realizing he didn’t have a shirt on, immediately pulled the covers over his chest. “El! You can’t just barge into my room! You need to knock!” 

She was already dressed and looking punk as shit. She pouted. “Jonathan said to get your… ‘lazy ass up.’ And I did knock.” 

She stood up. Will quickly threw on a shirt. It was insanely embarrassing to have El there. Will was pissed that Jonathan had sent her in. It felt like he had violated a code. 

“I’m up now, El. Can you get out, please?” His voice was sharp. He couldn’t help it. The whole thing had been such a rude awakening.

El looked at him, confused and a little hurt. It felt like she was looking through him, though. She had this odd way of both being naive and omniscient at times. As if she could see people’s pain. He wondered, not for the first time, if she could read minds, too. 

She took a few steps towards the door. “Do you want me to…” She pointed to her eyes, that had smudges of black and a hint of this glittery purple. 

“That was a one time thing, El. Boys don’t wear makeup, unless it’s for Halloween.”

She tilted her head. “Bowie does.” She pointed at Will’s poster of The Cure. “He does.” 

Will snapped, “Well, I don’t want to. Okay?”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she left the room. Will crumpled back onto the bed and held his pillow to his chest. He couldn’t believe what an asshole he’d just been to her. It wasn’t El’s fault. He knew it wasn’t. She didn’t know any better. Will didn’t know what to do with all his anger. And he hated it. He hated this school. He hated everything about living here. Will slammed his pillow on the ground and saw the Pink Floyd shirt beside it. 

‘Well…’ he thought, ‘Maybe not everything.’ He walked over to his dresser and pulled out one of his thrift store treasures: a Rolling Stones shirt with “Tattoo You” on the back. He held it up. ‘If I’m going back, I’ll go back wearing armor.’ 

Will took his clothes to the bathroom and got ready. He washed his face and looked up in the mirror. Will attempted to put on a stoic face. His eyes went to his hair. There wasn’t anything badass about a bowl cut. He ran his hands under the water and tried slicking his hair back but it was so thick it just sort of flopped. He looked himself over. That wasn’t actually that bad. He took a comb and straightened out the part. His hair separated off center. He grabbed El’s hair gel and ran his fingers through. He straightened. He looked cooler already. He tried glaring again. 

But he still looked like himself. He still looked like a backwoods Indiana country boy. An echo in his head whispered. ‘Makeup would help...’

‘I might as well paint a target on my back.’

He argued, ‘It doesn’t matter what you wear! They can always tell what you are. So stop catering to them. Fuck them. Be Bowie. Be Robert Smith. And tell them to piss off.’

There was a power in the thought. He was tired of being scared. ‘Fuck them.’ He opened the door. “Hey, umm… El?” 

She peeked around the corner, an Eggo sticking out of her mouth.

“Could you-umm…?” He gestured to his eyes.

Jonathan interrupted, “Will. Hurry up! We’ve gotta go.”

Will’s shoulders sagged. “We still have a half hour!” 

“We need to beat the traffic getting into the parking lot.”

El turned to Jonathan, “We’ll be quick.” She grabbed Will’s hand. “Five minutes.” She yelled back as she pulled him towards her room. She moved fast getting out the eye shadow. 

Seeing the colors made Will’s stomach drop. “Just… just eyeliner.” 

“Robert Smith?” She asked. 

His heart skipped a beat. He was really doing this. He was going to go to school like this. What the fuck was he thinking? “Light on the eyeshadow.”

She smiled, nodded, and quickly set to work. 

“Hey, El?”

“Yes?”

Will curled into himself, ashamed. “I’m sorry I was an ass earlier.”

El looked at him for a moment. “I’m not mad... I don’t want to go back either.”

She really did understand. She gestured for him to close his eyes and he did as she applied the eyeliner. This was the hardest part. It definitely felt like being poked in the eyes. He could feel his lashes fluttering. 

Will took his turn to comfort her. “I’m gonna be there with you the whole day… and mom said we’ll be taking Health this marking period instead of Gym. So, we won’t be in with those umm… mouthbreathers.”

El shook her head, “Scumbags.” She switched to the eyeshadow.

“Yeah... Scumbags.”

They heard Jonathan yelling, “Guys! Come on! We’re gonna be late!”

“One more minute!” El called back. Will opened his eyes and saw Jonathan standing in the door frame, stunned. 

Panic seized Will. ‘Oh, God! This was a mistake.’

Jonathan couldn’t believe that this was his brother. His eyes dusted with black and gray makeup and outlined in shadow. His baby brother looked… goth. It just seemed so weird. But then he read Will’s face. Every second of silence that passed was another moment of doubt. Jonathan racked his brain for something to say. Will should be allowed to explore this stuff. Jonathan had always built up this notion of rejecting the conventional. What kind of hypocrite would he be to tell him now to conform? 

“Alright, listen, video stars. We gotta roll out now. Can you finish this up in the car?”

El nodded. “Yes! Almost done.” 

“Good, get your stuff and let’s go.” They both grabbed their backpacks and Will made sure to grab his headphones. He would need them today. He would need to hide in his music. If people were going to look at him the way his brother just did…

Will wondered what Jonathan had been thinking. Did he think he looked like some poser? Like a stupid kid messing around with his sister’s makeup? ...That he looked like a fairy?

Shame started cementing itself in his gut. He should just wipe it off. 

But a sudden stubbornness took hold. No. He wasn’t backing down from this. He wasn’t taking the coward’s way out. 

‘I can tell you’re a fighter.’ Wasn’t that what he had said to him? He wondered if the guy at the thrift store would think Will looked good like this. His stomach flipped. He decided that if he could get through this day, he’d go see him after school. 

They hopped in the back of the car and buckled in. El picked up right where she left off on his eye. Will closed his eyes and listened as Jonathan put in a tape. The car jolted to life as did the guitars of Ramones’ ‘Blitzkrieg Bop.’ Will couldn’t keep from tapping his foot. It was exactly what he needed in that moment. There was an attitude in the sound that he wanted to hone. He lifted his eyebrows to keep his lids taught for El. She held onto the back of his head to steady him and worked carefully despite the motion of the car.

By the time the final chorus of the next song, ‘Hell’s Bells’, was crashing through the speakers, El had finished. Will looked in the rearview mirror and didn’t recognize his own eyes for a moment. A thrill shook through him. He didn’t have to be the same quiet Will at this school. Nobody knew what to expect from him. Here he wasn’t Zombie Boy. He could shape his image and that was a newfound power. 

The music led into the drums of Sweet’s ‘Ballroom Blitz’ and Will realized there was a theme. A common thread in the songs. 

“Is this a new mixed tape?” Will asked.

Jonathan’s eyes met Will’s briefly in the mirror, his smile making creases in the corners. “Yeah. You like it?”

Will shrugged, “It’s a little epic for just going to school. I feel like I should be knocking out zombies or something.”

“Zombies, fellow classmen. Whatever.”

A grin tugged at Will’s mouth. 

They pulled into the school parking lot. Will and El got out. Will looked at his reflection in the car window, seeing himself in full. He looked at El his eyes full of gratitude. She poked his face, “Bitchin’.”

He tugged at her jacket. “Punk as hell.”

She scrunched her nose, laughing at the new term. They made their way towards the school and he saw the first of the faces looking at him. The “weird” look. The disgust in their expressions. 

What had he been thinking? He hated having people look at him like that. Like he was a freak. Why was he doing this? He shouldn’t have changed anything. He should have gone back to being invisible.

‘But you’re not invisible.’ He reasoned. ‘You never are. If you dress like this, you control the image. It’s yours. Not theirs. It’s a face you put on.’ Will coached himself. ‘It’s like a mask, a character, like Will the Wise.’ But this character was different. This one was a punk. This character was less wizard and more of a roguish thief. 

Will wondered if he’d have to do these mental gymnastics all day. Trying to talk himself out of being afraid all day. He needed to get out of his own head. He pulled out his Walkman and put his headphones on. 

“Hey, Will.” Jonathan handed him the tape before Will could press play. He looked at the words on the label scratched in pen, ‘Give ‘em Hell, Kid.’ 

Will smiled at his older brother. He had made the tape for him, for today. “Thanks, Jonathan.” 

He popped it in and listened to the last remaining notes of the song they’d heard in the car. He walked into school alongside El and Jonathan to “Gimme Shelter.” El linked arms with him and they made their way to the lockers. Jonathan followed behind, keeping watch over them. 

They had beat the rush but there were still a few of their fellow classmen. Enough to get those looks. Will held his head up. 

He saw someone curl their lips, “Freak.” He could see them form the words but all he could hear was the rhythm of the Rolling Stones’ guitars. 

‘Roguish thief.’ He reminded himself. He looked them up and down, and gave the weird look right back. He felt stronger for it.

He caught El looking up at him. She had heard the word and was gauging his reaction, making sure he was okay. He shrugged at her and smirked. She smiled, relieved, and there was a bounce in her step. 

Jonathan lingered at the hallway where he should have been turning towards. He should let them go. Get to his own locker. But a worry gnawed at him and, when they got to their lockers, he caught up with them.

“Listen, Will, El.”

Will looked up, a little embarrassed. Why was Jonathan hovering? “Shouldn’t you be getting to class? So, you aren’t late?”

Jonathan held out a paper. “This is my schedule. If for any reason they bother you, come get me first.”

“We’ll be fine.” Will answered, not taking it.

“I don’t want to be left in the dark again. Hearing second hand that my brother was-”

“Okay, I got it.” Will cut him off. He threw his locker door open. He took a breath. He was grateful for the tape. But he wanted Jonathan to believe he could handle this. Even though he wasn’t sure himself. He wanted his brother to stop treating him like a kid. He took the paper. “Thank you.” Though, he said it like goodbye. 

“Have a good day, Will, El.”

She nodded and said, “You too.” Jonathan hesitated and turned back. Will waited, trying to talk himself down from the edge of anger again. 

El asked, “Can I listen?”

Will took off the headphones and let her take a turn while he got his stuff out and piled everything he’d need for the day in his backpack. It was going to be ridiculously heavy but the less time he went to his locker, the less he’d have to worry about seeing... them. He had to avoid the hallways and lunch room as much as possible.

When they got into homeroom, which by the grace of God was also the art room, Will and El scooted their chairs closer so they could both listen to the tape together. People started trickling in. He watched their eyes flick over to him, with looks ranging from surprise and curiosity to disgust and amusement. It was taking more out of him than he had anticipated. He got his artwork out of his backpack, with the hope of avoiding their eyes for a moment, and walked up to Ms. Khang. 

“Good to see you again, William.” She took him in for a moment, but there was no discernable reaction. She held her hand out and he handed the assignments to her. She studied them with a careful eye. “Your work certainly has a level of sophistication. Did you take art lessons?”

Will shook his head. 

Her eyebrows raised, “You have a sketchbook by any chance?”

Will blinked and nodded. He went back to his backpack, elated, and grabbed his sketchbook. When he gave it to her, he forgot about the sketches at the back. The studies of figure drawing….

There had been a how-to-draw book at the library that focused heavily on sketches from Renaissance artists. Many of which ...were nudes. He had been insanely embarrassed at first and returned the book immediately. But the more he looked at his own sketches, the more flaws he saw. His characters always seemed to look so stiff. How had they managed to make those people seem so lifelike, so moveable? He relented and borrowed the book. He worked through the embarrassment, practiced, and began to notice an improvement.

His sketchbook was out of his hands before he remembered. Surely she wouldn’t get that far, though, he thought. 

But no such luck. She took the pages and let them run through her fingers like a flip book. Enough that she caught a glance. She thumbed through the back and Will thought he was going to die. 

She raised her eyebrows. “Most people wait til college to study this. Were you drawing from…” She looked over the drawing for a moment, “Michelangelo?”

He felt the blush creeping up. “Um- it was just-”. 

“Oh, relax. I went through four years of art school. There is nothing in here I haven’t seen.” She continued to flip through, lingering on one of his characters. “Are these comic book characters?” 

Will nodded.

“Is that something you want to pursue?”

Will looked away. It used to be. He had once dreamed of drawing comics of the stories Mike wrote. But that was before this summer… that was before Mike slowly stopped writing campaigns. It felt childish to cling to it now. The dream had withered away. 

“It’s not a realistic career.”

She was silent for a moment. “That’s debatable but you do want to pursue art?”

“Yeah. Maybe... as an architect?” That was something concrete, he thought.

She pursed her lips. “There is nothing in this sketchbook that even remotely resembles a passion for architecture. Architects have precise linework. Geometric. Your lines flow and are very organic. It’s evidence of something more imaginative.”

“Architects can be imaginative...”

“But they are limited by laws of gravity and engineering. If you are not passionate about it, do not suffocate your art for the sake of being realistic.” She handed him his sketchbook back. “I need to take attendance. Are you able to come in during lunch?”

Will nodded. 

“Good. See me then. Head back to your seat.”

She started calling out names and Will felt like he’d been both complemented and scolded. She was an odd bird. He made his way back over to El, who was bobbing her head and doodling flowers and spirals in her agenda. 

“Eleanor Horowitz.”

Even if she hadn’t been wearing headphones, she would not have responded. The new name was so foreign to her. 

Will tapped El and she raised her hand.

Ms. Khang instructed. “Headphones off, dear.”

She put the headphones back in her bag and they got everything ready for their classes.  
_____________________

Will could categorize the day in victories and defeats. The first few classes were filled with the latter; looks of varying degrees of disgust or disapproval, moments of whispered insults that he could never hear clearly enough to make a good come back. In his agenda book he started writing down everything he thought they might say and try and come up with something to say back. But it all felt so pointless.

Until, just before lunch, there was a moment of glistening triumph. 

As he was walking down to art class with El, he heard someone say, “That pixie dust on your eyes?”

There were snickers. Will spat out the words over his shoulder, without thinking, “No. It’s ashes.” 

He walked away and El squeezed his arm in glee at seeing their faces, a mix of surprise and disgust.

“Psycho.” One said.

A kid from one of their classes snorted and leaned towards Will. “That was metal, man.”

Will nodded, “Thanks.” He did his best to downplay how giddy he felt. He floated back to art class for lunch. He and El unpacked their sandwiches and ate. Once Ms. Khang had finished talking to another student she called Will over. She proceeded to tell him, in a stern yet, strangely encouraging tone, that if he wanted to go to college for art, he would need to start working on his portfolio. She offered to give him additional assignments and materials to help him with this. A thrill resonated through him at the idea of making his dreams of art school a reality. It suddenly seemed closer, maybe even achievable. He tried not to get his hopes up. Nothing might come of it, but the feeling soared all the same. 

For the rest of the day, the looks of disgust didn’t touch him. The sneers and comments fell on deaf ears. He finally felt like he had armor. 

That was until dismissal.   
_________________________

Will stood frozen in front of his open locker, his hand still on the metal door, staring at the contents inside. 

Everything was coated in a layer of glitter. His jacket, the few books and folders he’d left inside. They must have poured it through the slats in the door. The dust was now in a mess on the floor. What was he supposed to do? How was he ever supposed to get this stuff off? He could feel the saliva at the back of his throat. The thought of sitting there and cleaning the infectious substance… he’d be taking the bait. They would be waiting to see him down on his knees, humiliated. That’s when they would strike. And Will knew that there would be nothing to stop him from crumbling.

The hairs on his arm stood up and he turned to see El, clenching her fists and staring at the glitter, the way she used to stare at cars and cans to make them move; to make them bend to her will. He half expected to see her nose bleed. But there was nothing.

“El. Stop.” 

Her hands unclenched. She whispered, “I’m sorry… if… if I had them back…” She steadied her lip. “They wouldn’t have dared.”

“But you don’t. And even if you did, you wouldn’t be allowed to use them.” Will could hear his tone and wish he’d said it softer. But it was taking everything in him to keep his own emotions from spilling out. “You can’t make every scumbag bleed just because they hurt you. It’s something we all had to learn. You’ll get used to it.”

He shut his locker, leaving everything inside and walked off towards the doors. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He’d deal with the glitter tomorrow before school. Will glanced back to make sure El was behind him. He could see the defeat sinking her, like a weight pulling on her whole being. He could tell she was fighting back tears. He mentally scolded himself. He’d struck a nerve. He should have known better than to talk about her powers like that. Will felt like he used to be kinder. But it was so much harder to be that way now. It used to feel effortless.

He waited for her to catch up. “El, I’m sorry. Can we talk in the car?”

She nodded but her eyes were glazed over. He wondered for a moment about reaching out to her; wrapping her up in a hug, or holding her hand. But the thought made him nervous, the affection would make him feel exposed, vulnerable. If those thugs were around, they’d see it. 

They made their way through the parking lot. Will took out the keys Jonathan had given him and they got in the car. El just looked at her hands. 

Will apologized, “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I was just mad-”

Will heard her mumble. “‘-seless.”

“What?”

She clutched onto her knees and whispered, “I’m useless.”

“El! Don’t say that! How could you ever say that?!”

She burst, “I used to know that I could keep you all safe. I used to know that if anybody hurt you, I could hurt them back. I could stop them. But now… I can’t! No matter how long I wait, how hard I try… I can’t protect anybody. I’m useless.” 

She bowed her head and Will, without thinking, pulled her into a hug. 

She sobbed into his chest. “It’s all I ever dream about now. Him coming back and not being able to save anyone. Watching everyone-”. She choked back a sob. 

He clutched her, putting his anger aside. It was an all too familiar fear.

“Your powers will come back in no time.” He comforted, “And then I’ll have to tell you to stop breaking people’s arms. We both know they aren’t gone completely. You could tell when I was in trouble. You knew something was wrong and you ran right to the locker room. You think that was a coincidence?”

She shook her head, “But what if that’s all that’s left?”

Will thought about it for a moment. What if that was the case? There had been a time, when he could communicate across worlds, where he could summon demodogs and see visions. At the time, it had all been terrifying and a matter of surviving, but there was an emptiness that followed, a feeling of being weaker for not having them anymore. 

He squeezed her shoulder and she looked up at him with puffy red eyes. All he wanted to do was solve her problem. He couldn’t fix his own but maybe he could fix hers. 

“I don’t think it is. Maybe, you just need to find a new way to summon them. If you want, I can help you train to get them back. We’ll figure it out.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. And… El... even if they never come back. You are a party member. You’re a badass. And you’re a part of our family. So, don’t ever call yourself useless.”

She wiped her eyes and Will could see the corners of her mouth turning up. She leaned her head back towards his shoulder but then stopped and looked at him. 

Was it weird to let her lean on him? This was all new to Will. He’d never had friends that were girls, aside from Max. But really, she had been more like one of the guys, all things considered. El was more than a friend, she was family. They were at such a strange place. 

But he nodded and her head rested on his shoulder. He caught himself enjoying affection and wondered if this was what everybody felt around girls. There was a kind of comfort in holding her. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he did like girls. Maybe people exaggerated the whole thing with the butterflies and the blushing nervousness. But then he thought about the floating feeling he had with that guy in the thrift store. Those nights of lying awake and replaying the minutes shared between him and Mike. And he knew in his gut why that was. 

But this quiet moment still meant something to him and he knew it meant something to her. Back in Hawkins, he realized just how attached El was to Mike. She held his hand at every opportunity. She would lean on him, nuzzle him. At the time, it drove him crazy. He’d hated it. It took him a while to admit why. But then, El had that same closeness with Max after she and Mike had broken up. They would link arms, share ice cream, and Will realized that it was a personality trait. He had seen El go from this Mage in his head to a very vulnerable and affectionate person. Affectionate with Max. Affectionate with Mike. He knew she must miss it. 

Will didn’t know if he was comfortable replacing that affection but, in moments like this, it was a small comfort he could offer. 

For the time being, he felt a little better. El was now one of very small club that didn’t look at Will as weak or a victim. She was looking to him for guidance, for solutions. That meant so much to him. Maybe he didn’t have to pretend he was stronger. Maybe he already was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. It's been three months. THREE MONTHS. Well, that's writer's block. And basically how my fall was playing out. O_O Crazyyy So, thank you for waiting you marvelous human beans. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	6. First Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK YALL!! Holy smokes. 6 months of just straight up lack of motivation and moving at a snails pace. Then THREE FICS IN ONE WEEK. Jshfjske All it took was a national lockdown. O_O
> 
> Hope you guys are safe and healthy and that this chapter brings you distraction.

Jonathan got his things as quickly as he could. Having photography class as his last subject of the day was both a blessing and a curse. He was always the last to clean up, wanting to use up every second he could. Jonathan had been elated at the prospect of staying late on days where the lab was open after school. He had hoped to build up his portfolio to apply for colleges and some local papers. 

But, how could he now? He couldn’t tell Will and El to walk home. Not with those thugs from the locker room on the prowl. There was a hope that maybe they would find a club or a group to belong to, the way the party had been for them back at Hawkins. But in the meantime, he was responsible for their safety and couldn’t risk staying late. He threw his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the parking lot.

When he got there, he saw Will and El leaned over and listening to the Walkman. 

“Hey guys. You have the keys, you could just listen to the radio and save the batteries.” He tried to sound lighthearted but he could tell by the look in Will’s face: the day had not gone well.

“Is everything okay?” Jonathan regretted asking the moment the words left his lips. It obviously wasn’t. And that question only ever got the blanket statement:

“Yeah. Fine.” It came from Will.

El flicked her eyes over. 

Jonathan realized how red and puffy they were. “That bad, huh?”

Will crossed his arms and turned towards the window. Will knew it probably looked childish but he didn’t care. Everything was still too close. He felt like if he talked about it, he would explode and either end up yelling or crying. He had been fine for a moment, comforting El had been comforting to him. She looked to him for answers. She was the only one who did that. Everyone else would try to solve things for him and that just made him feel pitiful.

Jonathan looked to El. “How about you, El? Give me the highlights.”

“Highlights?”

“The best part of the day.”

El blinked for a second. In truth, it had been being comforted by Will. Some wall had been brought down. She was really beginning to feel like a sister to him. She felt hopeful and less alone. He was going to help her get her powers back. Or, at least, they were going to try. But she didn’t want to share it, not when Will was so tight lipped. She didn’t want to ruin what they had now.

“Leaving school.”

Jonathan’s shoulders sagged and looked at them both. He realized there was a line, a distance, that he couldn’t close. He turned and started the car.

Will saw El look over at him, pleadingly. She saw the hurt. She always did. 

“Lunch was the highlight.” He mumbled. “My art teacher wants to help me make a portfolio for college.”

Jonathan looked back, “Are you serious? That’s amazing! My photography teacher offered to help with mine, too. He said that they look for variety but it’s good if you have a niche. But you already seem to have one with those characters.”

Will looked at his hands. “Those aren’t going in my portfolio. They’re just doodles.”

Jonathan looked back in the mirror. He could see the light inside his brother dimming. Moving out here had stolen something from him. The security he had among his friends, even through their troubles. Jonathan used to be able to pull Will out of those dark places, the dark thoughts. He used to be able to reach him. But now he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.

The car was quiet. Jonathan filled the silence with the radio, and wondered when Will had shut him out.  
_____________________________ 

Once they got home, El and Will went to his room to do homework. Jonthan preheated the oven and got the chicken out of the fridge. He had prepped it in a baking pan the night before, so all he had to do was throw it in. Joyce was trying to teach him some basic meals before he went to college. 

Saying, “I don’t want you having eggs and canned soup for every meal.”

Jonathan started tidying up around the kitchen when he realized that they were out of dish cloths. 

He called down the hallway, “Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

Jonathan made his way over to Will’s room, “Can you throw some of the dish cloths in with your laundry?”

Will threw down his pencil. Among the things he hated about the apartment was its lack of a washing machine. They had to go downstairs to the communal laundry machines. He rubbed his eyes for a moment and sighed, trying to push away the annoyed feeling. Bright side. He told himself. He grabbed his sketchbook, library book, and Walkman. He would at least be out of the apartment. He could just sit and draw for a bit. Maybe work on something for his portfolio. Or maybe just draw out some more creatures. He had gotten a book from the library on special effects from different monster movies and he had been copying some of the concept art. 

He threw them in his backpack and started grabbing piles of laundry.

The evening fell into a familiar pattern. Jonathan got the remainder of dinner ready and checked El’s homework. When Joyce got home, she was tired and felt gross from a day of cleaning houses. She poured out her gratitude for Jonathan, though feeling like it was never enough. Then she excused herself to get washed up before dinner. Will came in lugging the clean laundry and setting it in his room to be folded later.

Dinner involved a dance that El had caught onto by now. It was a lot of smiles, even if they were forced. All of them pretended to be happy to spare the other, even though she could tell they were all sad in their own ways. The conversations were lighter, only the best things from the day, the “highlights.” 

“How was your day, El?”

“Good. I like the book from English class.”

Will cut in, jokingly, “You like The Old Man and the Sea?”

She straightened, and her eyebrows furrowed a bit. She was being called on to defend her book, much like the squabbles she had seen the party engage in: which movie was the best, the better comic book character, the better writer.

“It’s a good book,” she stated.

“All he does is talk to himself.”

“That’s what I like.” She thought a moment, “You hear his thoughts. It’s quiet but…” she searched for the right word, “meaningful.” She settled on.

He shrugged. “It’s easier to read at least. I’m not reading the same line 40 times.”

“Just wait ‘til you get to Charles Dickens,” smirked Joyce. 

Will clasped his head in his hands. “Don’t remind me.”

El enjoyed these bantering moments. In the woods, before Hopper found her, El used to daydream about what it would have been like to be part of Mike’s family. If everything they had wished had come true: if Nancy had been her sister and Mike her not-brother. What their dinners would have been like, something she had only glimpsed at but wished for so desperately. Now, she finally had it and,as grateful as she was, she hated what it had cost her. 

She wondered how long it would take for the dinner happiness to stop feeling like pretend.

Joyce insisted on cleaning up dinner and El volunteered to help. She tended to be attached at the hip to Joyce when she got home. Will went to tackle the clothes. Jonathan walked over to his room, “You need some help?”

Will shook his head, holding one sock. “You cooked dinner. It’s fine.” Will tried to find the other to match.

Jonathan picked the other up and handed it over. “It’ll go faster with two.” 

Will shrugged and the two started folding. Jonathan racked his brain for what to say. It used to be so easy. But these days, there was a divide and he felt like he was walking on eggshells, like he could never say anything right. 

“Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

Jonathan took a deep breath and hoped that what he said would help, “I know that going back today was rough. You don’t need to tell me why. I just want you to know that, I’m here. Okay? You’re not alone. And I know that school feels like a nightmare right now but you just need to find your pack, and I think you will here. It might be with art class, or something else but you’ll be okay.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” There was sharpness in his words, a knife’s edge in his stance. He snapped the jeans as he folded them and his lips were tight. 

They folded in silence. Jonathan didn’t know what he’d said but he decided not to press, despite the urge. 

After a moment, Will asked, “Is that what you did? Did you ‘find your pack’?”

“Well, I’m trying-”

“Because it sounds to me like you’re talking out of your ass.”

Jonathan was thrown. Will had never taken this tone or swore at him. It felt surreal. 

The floodgates had opened up and Will couldn’t stop himself. “You don’t know that the people in this town won’t be ten times worse than Hawkins!”

Jonathan snapped back, “Oh, I’m sorry, are you comparing them to the flayed? Because I think they stand a pretty good shot in comparison.”

“I’d have taken my chances with them all over again if it meant I could have been with my friends. It took me YEARS to make those friends and I lost them. And what? You think I can just make more?”

“I wasn’t trying to say it was easy-”

“Yes you were! You made it out like I am some socialite. Like I’ll just turn around and make new friends! When you don’t know SHIT about that! You don’t have a friend in the GODDAMN WORLD!”

“I have friends, Will!” Jonathan couldn’t believe he was going on the defensive against his little brother.

“You have family, not friends, and a girlfriend who’s a thousand miles away! You don’t know JACK SHIT about meeting new people!” 

That struck a nerve, and a resentment bubbled up that he had always buried. “You ever think that maybe you have something to do with that?! That maybe I missed out on that because I spent all my time babysitting you?”

“I NEVER ASKED YOU TO! I don’t want you to! I just want you to LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“Fine! Wish granted!” Jonathan stormed out and Will slammed the door. Jonathan stood there with ugly feelings on his chest and sour words in his mouth. He couldn’t quite process it. This had never happened. Never.

There were stupid squabbles when they were kids, before Lonnie left. There was teasing and annoyance and some back and forth arguments. But they never yelled. Will had never cursed at him. And Jonathan had never, never voiced the bitterness. This was all new and Jonathan hated every bit of it. 

Joyce walked over to him, gently. “What happened?”

“He… Will and I… we had a fight. I… I don’t know… what happened.”

Joyce sighed. “Let’s make some tea.”

Jonathan glimpsed El wringing a towel in the corner of his eye. Joyce turned to El. “Sweetie, I need to talk to Jonathan for a moment.” She kissed El’s head. “I’ll be in, I just need a bit.” El nodded and went to her room.

Joyce put on a kettle and they sat down at the table. 

Jonathan clenched his hair in his hands, “Why did I say that? I blamed him… I told him he was the reason I didn’t have friends.”

Joyce gently took his hand away from his head and held it.

“You have a very different relationship with your brother. My brothers? We used to say that stuff all the time to each other. But you never did that with Will. You were always gentle and when your father left, you took on the role of dad to Will in a lot of ways. That wasn’t fair to either of you. Just like it wasn’t fair to move you all so far away.”

“We had to…”

“But Will is mad about it. He’s going to be mad about it for a long time, and we need to let him.”

“...I feel like I don’t even know him anymore… like we left him back in Hawkins.”

Joyce squeezed Jonathan’s hand. “Do you remember when your father left?”

“Yeah.” The mention of his father made him scowl involuntarily. 

“Do you remember how bitter you were?”

Jonathan shook his head. “I wasn’t bitter. I was relieved that he was gone.” 

“Maybe a part of you was but that wasn’t the only thing you felt. Your grades dropped that year. I had multiple parent teacher conferences. You didn’t want to play baseball anymore. You skipped out on the after school program.”

“Will and I never went to the after school program.”

“Yeah, because you kept walking home with him. You said that you forgot. You refused to go and after two weeks of me paying for a program, that wasn’t being used, I gave up.”

Jonathan seemed bewildered, “I don’t remember any of that.” 

“It was a fast few months, or it seems like it was now. It was before we really settled into our groove. There was an adjustment period. And you needed it. But Will never got that. I watched him. After Lonnie left, he made it his job to make us happy. He didn’t let us see how things hurt him. He has always tried to be strong for us. But now, after everything, he’s tired of smiling. He’s angry, he’s bitter, and he’s allowed to be. We need to let him feel this, and work through this. We need to still be there for him even if he’s being miserable and moody. He deserves our patience.”

Jonathan swirled his spoon around and watched the sugar dissolve. “Did I act like this?”

“You didn’t swear like that. But you lashed out at me. You blamed me for him leaving.”

Jonathan’s head bolted up, “What?! No. There’s no way.”

“Yeah, honey. You were grieving.” 

Jonathan couldn’t process that. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s water under the bridge, sweetie. You apologized the same night. I knew you didn’t mean it.”

“Was I like that with Will?”

Joyce looked toward Will’s door and shook her head. “You were gentler with him. You tried your best to make up for Lonnie being gone. You have always tried to fill that hole for Will. So, it only makes sense that you get some of the teenage rebellion aimed at you.” She said it with a laugh but it was hollow. He could hear the echoes of her own disappointment, like she had failed them somehow.

Jonathan squeezed her hand back. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. We’ve got good roots, and we’ll make it through.”

She smiled at him. 

Jonathan looked back down the hallway. “I should probably go apologize.”

She shook her head. “You need to give him time. Let him come to you when he’s ready. For now, give him space and drink your tea.”


	7. A Phone Call Home

Will paced in his room, wishing he could scream at the top of his lungs, scream until all the anger was out. He just wanted to feel normal again. This constant cycle of rage scared him. What if he was like this forever? He clutched fistfuls of his hair and tried to breathe. He could feel himself spiralling and he needed to stop.

‘Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree,’ he thought. And his anger dissipated and he felt himself sinking. What if he was just like Lonnie? What if he had inherited that explosive anger from him? What if he started pushing everyone away?

He shoved the clothes off the bed and got under the covers. He just needed to sleep. He could wake up tomorrow.

‘And face another day of school.’ He curled in on himself. He was trapped.

Being alone was making it all worse. He needed to talk to someone. He needed to dump everything out, to vent. 

‘I want to call home.’

He meant Mike…. This was his new home, no matter how much he wished it wasn’t.

He peeked his head out from the covers, and grabbed the phone from his nightstand. His fingers moved across the memorized numbers and waited. 

“Wheeler residence, Karen speaking.”

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Will! It’s so good to hear from you. How do you like the new place?”

“It’s good. Um… is Mike there?”

Will was losing his nerve. It wasn’t fair to call just to dump his feelings. This was a mistake.

“He’s in the shower. He should be done by now though.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just let him know I called.”

“Nonsense! He takes too long in there anyway.”

Will blushed. She wasn’t seriously going to bang on the bathroom door was she? 

“It’s really okay-”

“MIKE! GET OUT OF THE BATHROOM!! WILL’S ON THE PHONE!”

Will felt the secondhand embarrassment and slid his head under the covers. He could hear shouting back.

“He’ll be here in a minute.” 

Oh, God. Why did she do this? 

He heard a receiver pick up and Mike’s voice. 

“Hey, Will.”

“Hey, Mike.” 

“Hang up the phone, Mom. I got it.”

“Okay, honey. Will, tell your mom I said hi and to call me sometime!”

“Sure. Talk to you later, Mrs. Wheeler.”

He heard a click. 

Will offered, “I tried to tell your mom, we don’t have to talk now, if you’re in the middle of something.”

“It's okay. I was just picking my face.”

“Why? You have stupidly clear skin.”

“Not anymore. I started high school and bam! Pizza face.” 

Will could hear the sarcasm and relented. “Fine.” 

“I’m gonna call you back, Will.”

Will nodded. “Okay.”

It was the silent system. The party would hang up and call back so that the Byers didn’t have an insane bill for the long distance call. 

The phone didn’t even finish the first ring before Will picked it up.

Mike asked, “So, how is everything? Today was your first day back, right?”

Of course Mike remembered. Will clutched the phone closer. Why did he have to be so far away?

He didn’t know where to start. “Yes. It was fine...” But his voice betrayed him and Mike knew.

“Will. I know bull when I hear it. You called and I’m here. You can tell me.” 

His voice was so soft and Will couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I… I hate it. I hate it here, Mike. I hate the people here. I hate the school. I hate the person I’m becoming here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like I’m just such a miserable person now. I snap at people and I… I fought with Jonathan. I yelled at him tonight.”

“It’s normal to fight with your brother. Nancy and I fight all the time.”

“No, I mean, I, like, really yelled at him. I cursed at him. I said… I crossed a line. Several.”

“Tell me.” 

Will pulled his legs closer, cringing at the thought of his words. “I told him… that he was talking out of his ass. He said that things would be better once I made a few friends here and that I just needed to give it time. I know he is just trying to help but…” A righteousness returned, “But it’s such empty crap. Who is he to talk? He went through most of his high school years without friends. And…” Will got quiet, ashamed. “And I told him that.”

Mike sighed and he could hear the creak of a mattress. “I get why you feel guilty, Will. There have been times where I seriously crossed lines with Nancy. Like, she wouldn’t talk to me for a week and I had to make it up to her. I had to fix it. And I know that you and Jonathan aren’t used to fighting, but it is normal.”

“It’s not normal for us.”

Mike sighed, “Will, I’m gonna say something and… I don’t want you to get mad…”

“Go ahead.” There was a knot in Will’s stomach, but he trusted that Mike’s words would help more than hurt. 

“Jonathan always seemed more like… a dad than a brother. Like, the way he would always take care of you. I was super jealous of it as a kid. The fact that you two never fought, that he gave you mix tapes, got you art supplies, and dressed you like a ghost for cool photoshoots. You guys don’t have a regular sibling relationship. He never made you feel like you were a pest. You’re lucky in that way. But there’s other stuff that comes with that. You never fought over stupid stuff so now, you’re arguing about bigger things and that’s… lead to some low blows. But, take the time to cool off and give him time too, and you apologize.”

Will soaked in Mike’s words, but he had to press on the corners of his eyes to keep from spilling over. “I know he’d forgive me. It’s not just about being sorry, it’s… I feel like I’m angry. All the time. It never stops. It never goes away. I mean it does but it feels like it’s my baseline now. Like I just keep going back to being angry. Stupid stuff sets me off now and…. What if… what if I’m like….” He swallowed the lump in his throat. His voice was barely audible, “If I’m just like my father?”

Mike had limited memories of Will’s dad. But he remembered picking up the pieces of Will after a visit from Lonnie. He remembered the summer Lonnie left and the fallout from his absence. 

“No. Not in a million years could you be anything like him.” There was a soothing tone that cradled Will. “I know what you’re feeling, Will. That year after you came back… when I thought El was lost… I was so bitter. And I felt like I was always snapping at people. My parents, Nancy, you guys... So, I’ve been there. It’s okay to be mad.”

“I hate feeling like this.”

“I know.”

“How did you manage it?”

“I didn’t that year. I hurt a lot of people. I took a lot out on Max, if you remember.”

Will nodded, “Yeah… I don’t want to do that to Jonathan or El. But,” He gripped the phone, “But most days it feels like I’m going to explode.”

“I know this isn’t a great solution, but when I feel like that, I try to just get out of the house. Sometimes that means running around the block, biking up to your house.”

“My house?”

“Well, Mirkwood. Because it’s far and… because of… well, everything. You and El should be here. We should have been starting high school together. I always thought that we would.”

“Me, too…”

There was a quiet between them and Will longed to be beside Mike again. He steadied him in so many ways. He didn’t know how to start over. He didn’t know how he’d ever find a friend like him again. He didn’t want to. 

Mike sighed, “That… that probably isn’t helping. I’m sorry. My point is, that you aren’t the only one mad about this. But you can talk to me about it. And the rest of us. You know that, right?”

“Of course.” He sniffed.

“And I know that this place doesn’t have people nearly as cool as us, but maybe you’ll find something good and that will be enough to get you through.”

Will wiped his eyes, “There’s a half decent art class.”

“See? And if you want some way to stay connected, maybe… maybe we could write something.”

Will sat up, “You mean… like the finish the story thing we used to do?”

“Yeah. Or… if you don’t feel like writing, maybe we could send each other prompts. Like, I could send you drawing prompts or you could send me a picture and I’ll write a story. Something-”

“I’d love that. Yeah.” Will was glowing. The raging sea had calmed. He had Mike’s voice in his ear and something to look forward to. 

For the rest of the hour, Mike told Will as much as he could about the group. Little updates that mattered more than he could have known. Will felt like himself again. He had come out from under the covers. He was fixing his room, even doodling. Everything didn’t seem quite so overwhelming anymore. He could fix what he broke with Jonathan. He would get through this year, even if he didn’t make a single friend, he would get through. He would hold onto the good stuff every chance that he could. And when he was overwhelmed with anger or losing himself to despair, he knew he could weather it. His friends were far away, but he’d keep them close however he could. And he would get through.

“It’s getting late,” Will said. He didn’t want to stop talking but, “I want to fix things with Jonathan. I don’t want to sleep leaving things like that.”

“Okay. It was good talking to you, Will.”

“You, too, Mike. Thanks for everything.”

“Anytime.” It wasn’t a word given lightly. “And I mean it, Will. You can call every day, if you need to. I’ll be here, okay?” Mike had a way of giving his words weight. He always had. 

“Thanks, Mike.” They said goodnight and Will set the phone back on the receiver.

Will stared at the door. He took a deep breath, holding the feeling from the phone call inside his chest. He hoped it would be enough to carry him through this moment. He walked out into the hallway. It was dark, only lit by the light over the stove. He was too late. Everyone had gone to bed. He looked over at the living room and saw Jonathan leaning his head back on the couch, his eyes closed but his face contorted, listening to his Walkman. 

He whispered, “I’m sorry, Jonathan.” He knew Jonathan couldn’t hear him. He’d wanted to test out the words first. But realized they weren’t enough. 

He sat down on the couch, startling Jonathan. “Will!” He took his headphones off.

Will clutched his hands and took a breath. He wasn’t able to look at his brother. “I never should have said those things.”

Jonathan sighed, “You and me both. I didn’t mean it. It isn’t your fault that I don’t hang out with people. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Will bit his lip. “There is some truth in it though.”

“No, it’s-”

“Listen to me. I’m not looking for pity. I’m trying to be honest.” He looked over, “Since Dad left, you were always the one looking after me. I didn’t go to the after school program. We didn’t have a babysitter. It was you.” He shook his head. “It was something you had to do. But… At some point, you stopped trying to make friends, you didn’t invite people over anymore because you had to watch me.”

“It wasn’t something I had to do, Will. I… I didn’t want us to be latchkey kids. Mom would have done it, had other people watch us. It was me that didn’t want to. I wanted to be the one looking out for you, taking care of the house. None of that was your fault. And I stopped inviting people over when Mitchell Peters told everyone that our house was a dump after I invited him for a sleepover. I made the decision to stop trying. I… I used you as an excuse, but the truth is… I have a hard time trusting people. But you’re different, Will. You were able to make friends not just with one person, but with a group. I admire it… Sometimes I was even jealous of it. You guys have a bond.”

“I was friends with Mike. He’s the social one. He was the reason I was able to make friends.”

“But wasn’t it you who invited Dustin in? You saw this new kid, being picked on and you opened up. You drew him in. I know neither of us are social butterflies, but you have a big heart, Will. I know I’m over simplifying it. I’m making it out like it’s going to be easy. I know it’s not. It might take a long time for you to make another friend, Will. But I believe that when you do, they will be your friend for life.”

Will looked at his older brother, who had generously given his childhood so Will could have his. Will told Jonathan, “You can learn it, you know. You can learn to trust people. Me, Mom, and Nancy, we shouldn’t be the only people to see your big heart.”

Jonathan nodded, “I’ll work on that, I promise.”

Will nodded too. Jonathan opened his arms and pulled Will into a hug. As Will held him, he realized that Jonathan’s shoulder fit in the palm of his hand. It was a moment that marked something different. He always remembered feeling smaller in Jonathan’s embrace. But this time, they were hugging as equals. 

Jonathan had always covered up his problems. He would shoulder Will’s troubles without sharing his own. There was an honesty now, a trust, a shift in their relationship, one with a little more give and take. 

Will went to bed that night lighter. Anger was a part of adjusting to change. He would have to accept it and find outlets for it, but he knew now that change wasn’t all bad. He would take it in stride. There was too much good to be discovered with it that would be missed if everything stayed the same. The important things remained. He had people that loved him. He had people that trusted him and that he could trust. 

The rest was an adventure he promised to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that I've been writing like crazy? I cranked out two more chapters today. In stream of consciousness so it needs some editing but
> 
> YEAAAAAAAHH BABES! I'm back!


	8. Will and El's Rules for Life

El and Will walked along the town’s main street, exploring the shops. They had a mission to find the bases for their Halloween costumes. Will was going as Bowie. El was going as Boy George. He had already tried explaining that Boy George was in fact a boy.  
________________

“So?”

“Well, I thought you might want to know. In case you wanted to go as someone that’s… well... A girl.”

She had furrowed her eyebrows. “I want to go as someone pretty. He’s pretty.”

He shrugged. It wasn’t worth arguing. “I guess so. You just like his makeup.”

She smirked and pointed at the picture on her wall of him from the Rolling Stones magazine. The singer was donned in a straw hat, blue eyebrows, and eyeshadow that had dotted lines and arrows. “It’s gorgeous.”

Will shook his head and couldn’t keep the smile from his face. He was kind of happy that she didn’t care about boy and girl stuff. He knew he was supposed to be informing her of things, of the way the world worked, but he also loved that it didn’t matter to her.  
_______________

As they walked down the avenue, Will mentally catologged places of interest. There wasn’t a stand alone arcade, but there was one inside the local movie theater. There was a five and dime with a soda fountain, which was pretty neat. But Will was just biding his time until they got to the thrift store. He hoped the cute boy would be there again. He mentally corrected himself, ‘cool guy.’ He shouldn’t call him cute. 

Will pondered what he would say to him. Maybe he could ask for his help finding something Bowie-esque. A small smile pressed into his face at the thought and his heart fluttered a bit. ‘Act cool,’ he coached himself. He played out several scenarios. He was trying to affect a carefree attitude and posture. He had to keep reminding himself to keep his head up and not to slouch. He had to straighten his back every time he caught his reflection in the shop windows they passed. 

El gave him that ‘processing’ look, like she was trying to figure him out. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. I’m… I’m trying not to slouch. It’s bad for your back.”

She squinted and pursed her lips, not believing him, but she didn’t press further.

They finally got to the corner. Will walked a little faster across the street, to the thrift store parking lot. El quickened her pace to catch up. If he had looked back he would have seen the smile of sudden understanding spread across her face. 

The shop’s bell rang as they entered. Will’s eyes scanned the floor, but he didn’t see the trademark mohawk anywhere. His shoulders drooped a little. Maybe he wasn’t working today. He tried to reset. They were on a mission, anyway. And it was kind of fun exploring with El. He liked that she looked to him for guidance on things. 

“So, El, you know what you’re looking for?”

She nodded, holding up the inspirational images, and a wrinkled paper with a list. 

Will looked it over, “The bowler hat might be hard to find. You’re probably better off going with the straw hat. Either way, a lot of his stuff is still gonna be in the men’s section.” He led the way. Despite the fact that Bowie had so many different looks, they were all damn near impossible to find. He would likely have to find basic pieces and then ask his mom to tailor them or he’d have to paint them to match. It was also a matter of what he was comfortable wearing. Some of Bowie’s looks were very flashy, to put it lightly. Leotards, sequins, and… so much skin. He was embarrassed just thinking of himself in some of those costumes. 

Something like the Union Jack coat would be amazing, if he could find the right style of coat. If he was shooting for the stars, he could look for the Life of Mars suit. But really? Finding a powder blue suit here, was about as likely as finding the man himself here. 

He started in the suit sections, they would start looking for El’s stuff. It would be easier. The first mission was to find El a proper blazer for her Boy George. They flipped through a few, Will held them up to her. 

Will held one up that looked almost her size. “Try this one.” 

E took the blazer in her hands and delicately traced her fingers over the silk patterns on the inside. “I like this one.”

She was limited in her language, but she made up for it with the emotion she exuded. There was a light in her that shone at times like this. She found joy in small things. You couldn’t help but marvel in the glow. 

El put on the jacket. It was nearly perfect, except the shoulders and sleeves. “It fits!”

It was bulky and didn’t lay right. But she was beaming and Will wasn’t going to rain on it. “It’s perfect.”

She didn’t want to take it off, so she pranced around the aisle with it on. 

She looked over their inspiration pictures. “Which Bowie are you going to be?”

Will shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m just trying to find anything that will look like him.”

El looked up and down at the aisles filled with a sea of gray, black, beige, and brown fabrics. “Not much color.”

“Well, I don’t need to find something that’s the same color, El. I can paint it. I’m just looking for the right fit.”

“We should try the other side.”

Will looked up at where she was pointing. It was the women’s section.

“No.”

He saw her straighten. She had a defiant streak. Saying no flatly like that could turn their adventure sour in a heartbeat.

Will recovered, “El, it isn’t a big deal for girls to shop in the boys section but it is a big deal for a boy to shop in the girls section.”

She crossed her arms. “There’s no color here!”

“It doesn’t matter. I can paint it. Besides, nothing will fit me over there anyway.”

El was quiet. She was tense and looking at the floor. “Is there something wrong about being a girl?”

“What?! No! Of course not, El!”

“Then, why is it embarrassing to wear makeup? Or to shop in the girl’s section? But it’s okay for me to be in the boy’s?”

Will couldn’t answer her. He didn’t want to tell her. All the years he had been accused of being a fairy. ‘You hit like a girl.’ ‘Scared, you little sissy?’ Will realized all the insults that had been thrown at him always involved being like a girl. Was she right? Was there something wrong with it? 

“It’s just… Boys aren’t…” He didn’t want to unpack it all. It was a long conversation he didn’t want to have. He looked around. There were a few other people but it was pretty deserted. Everyone was in their own world, digging for treasure. The cute guy wasn’t there today. 

He surrendered, “Nevermind. Let’s just check it out.”

El wanted to push for the answer to her question. It was a piece that she didn’t understand about the world. She looked Will over and realized the question had made him shrink. There was an answer but it was casting a shadow over him. She’d save it for another time.

They looked through the aisle of women’s pants suits. Will was internally cringing at the thought of himself wearing any of these. He’d look like a queer.

The thought hit him and he shrank. The words that had been thrown and spat at him had soaked in and grown like a weed. The kind that you didn’t see until you started digging. He didn’t need to have bullies call him a faggot. He could do it all on his own. 

“El, there’s nothing wrong with being a girl.” She stopped and looked intently at him. Will couldn’t believe how hard it was to get the words out. “Boys… get teased for being like girls. They get called names for being anything like them.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess, boys are supposed to be manly. And that means liking baseball and acting tough.”

“And not wearing color?”

Will was going to counter that but, then he looked at the aisle filled with women’s suits in every color of the rainbow. He remembered being little and his mom letting him pick out his clothes for school. He’d wear every color he could. Mix matched socks, bright colored shorts. But after enough times of crying under the bench from being teased, he stopped wearing the more colorful things in his closet. 

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“It’s stupid.”

“I know.”

“So, why can David Bowie wear colors? Why can Boy George have makeup?”

Will tried to explain, “Because, they know the rules and they are breaking them. It’s their way of being artists.”

“Artists don’t have to follow the rules?”

Will pondered that. “I guess not.”

She thought about that for a moment. “You’re an artist.”

“Not like Bowie.” 

“Why not?”

“Bowie is famous.”

“And he always has been?”

Will took her in for a second. That one hadn’t really been a question. She had a good point. “Well, no.”

“Do boys tease him for the way he dresses?”

Will nodded, “Some people do.”

“But they don’t matter,” El said with certainty. “Because he is an artist. His clothes are his art and he makes soul songs.”

“Soul songs?”

“You said he had a way of ‘reaching into your soul.’” He remembered an impassioned monologue he had given her one time, when he’d told her all about him. 

He smiled, “Yeah.” He felt a little like he’d been tricked. That El was this good at arguing. Or maybe Will was just that bad at it. 

“You are an artist too, Will. You can break the rules.” 

“You can’t keep using Bowie as a reason for me to break social protocol.”

“I can if the ‘protocol’ is bullshit.”

He chuckled. Although he didn’t really want to admit it, he liked the idea that being an artist gave him an excuse. That he had armor against it. 

They looked through the blazers and El held up some bright colors but they were never in his size. And he still inwardly cringed at the idea of wearing them. But he was trying to swallow his pride. It was for Halloween after all.

“Do you need to take measurements?” A silky voice behind them asked.

Will froze. ‘No. no nononono. Please no! Why? WHY? He wasn’t supposed to be here.’ He was seeing Will look through the women’s section. The badass thrift store guy was seeing him holding up women’s pants suits. Could somebody just kill him now? Just wipe him off the face of the planet. 

Will turned. The mohawk wasn’t there today. Instead, his hair was flopped to the side, just enough in his face to be affecting that of a teenage heartthrob. Don’t think about that, Will scolded himself.

“ItsforHalloween. I swear.” Will was beet red. He could feel it in his face.

The gorgeous guy smirked. “I don’t know. I think lilac might be your color.” Then he looked at Will and his smile changed. It was kind, and harmless. “What are you going to dress as?”

El jumped in, “I’ll be Boy George. He’ll be David Bowie.”

“Ooh. Yeah. You’re going to have a hard time finding anything remotely resembling Ziggy in here, though. Unless you’re going for the Thin White Duke, which, honestly I think you could really pull off.”

There was something in the way he said that. Will’s head was spinning. He had just compared Will to the Thin White Duke, the modern equivalent of comparing someone to Adonis. Will was trying to keep his brain in check. People didn’t think about Bowie that way. He must have just meant that Will looked… cool… suave… holy shit he thought he was suave.

Will recovered. ‘Stay in the moment.’ He ignored the compliment. He ignored El’s cheeky smirk, which he saw out the corner of his eye. “I don’t need to find something exactly like Bowie’s. I can alter it.”

“You need measurements for that though, don’t you?”

“I mean… I don’t think so. I usually just try stuff that looks like it fits.”

The thrift store guy tilted his head, “Have you never been measured before?”

Will shook his head. “I can’t remember the last time I bought a suit.”

“Knowing your measurements will help a lot. I can show you how. Just uh…” He did a dramatic turn and check with his head before leaning in, “We don’t like to advertise it, but it is a special service we offer to certain, esteemed customers.” 

It took everything in Will not to grin like an idiot. It was banter. It was wonderful. How in the hell was this happening? Was he flirting? No. He was just… being… perfect.

“Okay.” Will wanted to smack himself. He felt like a bumbling idiot. Like his brain had deflated and was a limp balloon in his skull.

“I’ll get the tape then.” The dreamboat winked and walked towards the back. No, Will must have imagined the wink. He was in active daydream mode right now. That was the only explanation. 

Will let out a shaky breath. The whole thing was an adrenaline rush and his heart was pounding like crazy. He was beaming, but it was fine. The boy had his back to him. He turned back to the rack and caught El looking at him. 

El was watching this whole thing with no filter. She was unabashedly grinning. 

His face dropped. “What?” He asked.

“He’s pretty, right?” She raised her eyebrows. He could hear it in her tone. She knew.

Will turned back to the clothing. “You… you think so?”

“Don’t you?”

He avoided the question, “You really should stop describing boys as pretty. You are supposed to call boys handsome. They can get mad if you say that to them.”

“I can say it if he’s an artist.”

“Just. Don’t with that one. Boys get teased for being pretty.”

“That’s because people are jealous.”

“You’re starting to sound like Mom.”

“Well, do you think he’s handsome?” She went right back to it. He couldn’t distract her.

“Why does it matter what I think?”

She shrugged, cheekily, directing her attention to the blazers. 

He was worried for a few reasons. 

One: She was way too happy about this. What if she was trying to plan something? 

Two: She had no filter. She was blunt, honest, and didn’t understand social cues or norms. She had no idea of what the fallout would be if she let on that Will thought he was hot no… handsome.

He should have explained it. What people thought of boys that acted like girls. What it meant if a boy liked another boy. He should have told her. What the world thought about people... like him.

“El, please. Please don’t let him know,” he pleaded, barely audible. He was admitting it. For the first time ever. He was saying it out loud.

“I won’t. I promise.” Will looked at her. He could hear the serious In her voice as she uttered the solemn vow. He wondered if she understood why. But either way he was relieved. 

And then, the dreamy voice returned, “So, we starting with you, Ziggy Stardust?”

Will was doing his best not to melt. ‘Please, don’t let it be obvious,’ Will mentally pleaded. 

The guy was maybe half a foot taller. There was a soft padding to him but Will could tell there was muscle beneath that. Like he could easily pick him up. ‘Don’t think about that.’ He had olive skin that seemed like it could tan but was intentionally pale. He thought he was older, but without the mohawk and with the scruff shaved, he looked like he could be high school age. It was possible. 

The Dreamboat took out a small spool of measuring tape. His voice changed from playful to casually informative. “You’ll want to measure three main areas for a suit jacket: the width of your shoulders, the length of your arm, and around your chest. May I show you?” He asked Will, holding the tape.

‘This man’s trying to kill me,’ he thought. Will hoped that his cheeks weren’t as pink as they felt. 

Will shrugged, “Yeah, sure.” Was his voice higher? 

“Okay, relax your arms.”

Weren’t they already? No. He shook them. Then, the Dreamboat put the tape at the top of his shoulders and draped it down to his elbow and then to his wrist. Will peaked over the man’s shoulder to see El, giddy and giving a thumbs up. This was a layer of hell. He widened his eyes, his lips in a thin line, and shook his head slightly. She tried to stop from smiling and put on a serious face as she nodded. It wasn’t working. She was clear as crystal. 

“Just under 23 for your arms,” Dreamboat mumbled. Then, he said to Will. “Keep track of this. I’m terrible with numbers.”

Will nodded. How was this guy so casual? Wasn’t this intimate? Will could barely breathe. The boy had moved behind him and was draping the tape across his shoulders. His fingers held the tape, his knuckles were resting on him. Will’s head was swimming and now he knew he had to be visibly blushing. Will just hoped he wouldn’t see the goosebumps rising along his neck.

“You have to measure it from one bone to the other.” He was pressing into his shoulders, feeling for the bone. 

It was taking everything in him to keep his breathing regular, to not sound like he was actively having a heart attack. He glanced at El, who was pretending to fuss between two different blazers, averting her gaze. He could see in her cheeks, she was still smiling. How long had this guy’s fingers been there for? He had to know what he was doing. He had to know. And, if he did, it was intentional. It was flirting, and it was directed at him. Will was trying to talk himself down off of the cloud. He was imagining all of this, cooking up a fantasy in his head. This guy was just trying to give him advice. Maybe he worked at a department store before this. Or maybe he was a tailor or something.

He had said a number. But Will didn’t hear. He had moved in front of Will and was saying something.

“Can you lift your arms?”

Will was petrified but did so. He would know. It’d be revealed. He would feel Will’s heart beating a mile a minute, if he wasn’t already hearing it. The gorgeous person before him threaded the tape from under one arm to the other. His hands were so close. 

“When you do measurements, you need to make sure that the tape is level...” Will couldn’t stop staring at the way his hair flopped on his brow. The scent of something… he recognized it as Skin So Soft and some kind of shampoo or aftershave. The beautiful man before him was absorbed in the measuring and didn’t notice Will staring. “...and that you have one finger between you and the metal tip of the tape.” 

Now his finger was resting directly on his chest. He had to feel Will’s heart beating. Will could hear it in his ears. He knew he wasn’t controlling his breath anymore. It wasn’t a matter of whether this guy knew, anymore. It was a matter of whether he was trying to do this. Will risked it all, in a gesture that would mean life or death. Maybe that was a bit extreme. But, eye contact, between guys when they were this close was like breaking every guy code ever. It would condemn him if he was wrong, but he had to know. Will glanced up at him. Their eyes met and there was a smile on this man’s beautiful face, a knowing look, a recognition. Will could feel his own hands trembling. 

The angel looked down at the tape. “Thirty six.”

“What?”

“Your measurement. You remembered all the numbers, right?” He was smirking.

He wasn’t an angel. He was a demon. An imp. He knew exactly what he was doing, the flirtatious bastard. Will felt like a deer in headlights. He’d never felt this before. The aim of someone’s affection.

“Do you want to give it a try?” The gorgeous imp offered him the tape.

“On you?” Will said breathlessly.

He cocked an eyebrow and gave a wry grin. “I’m not the one buying a suit today.”

This man was pure evil. He knew exactly what he was doing!

The devilish man asked, “Do you want to try measuring your….?”

“Sister.” Will said. 

The imp held out the tape with a smile. Will could tell he was enjoying this. 

Will took the tape, his fingers brushing against his open palm. Will felt like he was floating, as if he’d never touch the ground again. This gorgeous guy was intentionally flirting with him. There was no mistaking it. He wasn’t sure if he could believe it. He had lived his whole life without knowing anyone else like him. And yet, here, barely a month into moving, not only had he found somebody like him but somebody that liked him. It couldn’t be real. 

El turned back towards them. She was smiling but remembered herself and tried to tuck the grin in. She was trying so hard to cover it up. He looked at her without knowing how to convey everything. His overwhelming gratitude for her being there, seeing all this, without judgement. With joy even. 

Will held the tape and smiled at her. “Loosen up your arms a bit, El.” 

El put her shoulders down but they were still stiff. 

“Like this, El.” Will dropped his shoulders and felt the man’s gaze. Will started measuring her arm. He was sure the pink in his cheeks would be a permanent fixture now. 

The dreamboat leaned on the clothing rack, “Did you find some stuff for Boy George?”

El nodded, “Mhm. The perfect jacket.”

“That’s great!” He was casual now. The flirtatious tone was gone from his voice. “How’s it fit?”

El gestured to the jacket that had made its way into their cart. “It fits.”

“Does it need to be taken in?”

Will answered this time. “It’s fine. It might need a little padding. Maybe Mom can hem it a bit in the sleeves.”

El looked at him, “Is it too big?” She seemed a little deflated. 

The thrift store guy jumped in. “That’s the thing about this place. There’s all kinds of good finds here. But they usually need some minor adjustments. Do you guys know how to sew?”

Will answered, “No. I mean, I can hand sew stuff. Like mending but alterations are a little out of my wheelhouse. But it really doesn’t need much, El. It’s still perfect.”

“It’s a good find.” She said.

Will raised his eyebrows, “Gold even.” She nodded, like she knew it the whole time.

Will measured her shoulders. He didn’t even remember the numbers from her arms. Where the hell was his head and was it going to be returning anytime today?

“Well,” Dreamboat continued, “I’m pretty good at fixing some stitches.”

El looked up, “You can make it fit?”

“Yeah. My sister is better at it, but if you need someone to help you out, I could give you guys my number.” He looked over at Will as he said this. There was a sudden shyness. A small nervousness in his breath.

The guy was giving Will his number. This was really happening. He didn’t know how he was going to live beyond this day. He didn’t know how he could be this happy. He didn’t believe that this would ever happen to him. The stuff in movies always seemed so fake. But now, the butterflies thing, he got it. Every piece of him felt weightless and fluttering and, at this point, he just accepted that his heart rate matched that of a hummingbird. But it was bliss.

A smile came on his face as something dawned on him…

“Wait a second…This is some kind of Ponzi scheme!” He teased. He was insanely happy for the opportunity to gain his footing back in the conversation. He tilted his head down like he was looking him over. “You’ve got a side business as a tailor!” It was an out of body experience. He was flirting back. It felt like he had been floundering, flailing like a fish out of water, unable to intelligibly respond at all to the direct flirting. Unable to believe it was real, but that momentary nervousness had been enough to show it really was mutual. So, he teased back. It suddenly felt normal, like banter with friends, but with another level added to it.

The boy held up his hands, “Guilty as charged, but can you really blame me? There isn’t much money in the life of a thrift store clerk. And I need to get into Juilliard somehow, goddamnit.”

Will asked honestly, “Are you really trying to get into Juilliard?”

“Not a chance. Ideally, I would like to get a van, so I could fulfill my dream as a shameless groupie.”

El tilted her head, “Groupie?”

Will explained, “Someone who follows around bands when they tour.” He handed her the measuring tape and she wrapped it under her arms.

“You should pull it up in the back, so it’s level.” The dreamboat coached them. Will realized he should probably stop calling him that.

“So, does this ‘tailor business’ have a name?” He was now the one throwing coy eye contact.

“Of course. It’s Vito… Vito DeLuca and Twisted Sister LLC.”

“Is that your sister’s legal name?”

“Nickname. I’ll introduce you proper. Just let me write those numbers down first.”

El recited, “Will’s are: 23 arms, 16 shoulders, 36 chest. My arms are 24, Shoulders 14, and Chest 34.”

Both boys stared at her. 

“You said to remember the numbers,” she looked at them both.  
__________________________________________

Will wrote his phone number down and handed it to Vito. Their fingers touched as they exchanged the small pieces of paper and Will felt the warmth and crackle of little electricity in his nerves. 

Vito said, “I’ve got to get back to stocking shelves. They see me give customers special treatment, I could get in trouble.”

“They see you side hustling your own business, you could get fired.”

“Exactly. I’ll keep my eye open for something in powder blue for Bowie. Unless you were going for that open chest look?” His eyebrows wagging.

This man would be the death of him. Will shook his head, “That seems like it’d be a little cold for October.”

He shrugged, “Sad but true. See you later, Will.”

Hearing his name from those lips made him dizzy. Will spent the rest of the time at the thrift store in a daze, his mission clearly forgotten. El was squeezing his arm with giddy excitement. He wanted to melt into the floor. He wanted to cry. He felt like he would burst like a star, with every piece of himself expanding into infinity. All those years of pining, thinking he could only ever love someone who couldn’t love him back. And just like that, he was desirable to someone. He was worth their attention. He kept stealing glances. One time he even caught him staring back. There was a smile held in Vito’s cheeks as he looked back to the shelves he was stocking.

Will thought he would burst with this feeling in his chest. He tried to look for something vaguely Bowie-esque. He needed some assemblance of an outfit so that he had an excuse to be fitted. Maybe this time at Vito’s house. Holy shit. Would that make it a date? He breathed. No, no. It was fine. El would be there. Not a date, just… something nice. Something really nice. 

El could tell Will was distracted and did her best to help him hunt. She scoured the racks, holding things up to him. She had to frequently refocus him, asking him if this shirt or that would work. Will ended up with several pieces that could be turned into different parts of Bowie’s looks. Nothing that made for one cohesive set. He’d need to come another day, when he had his head on straight. When he’d processed it all.  
_________________________

They were home before anyone else and El pulled Will into her bedroom. 

Once she closed the door, she turned. “He likes you! Like-likes you!” 

And then, it was all too much. El had seen everything. She saw him and Vito together. She had seen him, blushing and stumbling over his words. And she was… excited. Will had spent many nights picturing how most everyone in his life would react to him coming out. He had envisioned their confusion, the awkwardness that would follow. He had never imagined someone actually being excited. He wondered if there was another person in the whole world who would have reacted the way she was right now. There wasn't the slightest bit of judgement, pity, or concern at the idea of him liking another guy. She had no idea what it meant to be gay or that most of the world thought it was wrong. She was just happy for him. He blinked and there were tears. He wrapped his arms around her. 

Reality set in. He’d have to tell her to keep it secret. He’d have to tell her why it was a secret. She’d have to understand that people thought it was wrong. She had to know why it was dangerous for people to know. Suddenly, a shame was draped over what had been such a perfect day.

“Please, El. Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course, I won’t. Crushes are supposed to be kept secret, right?”

He looked at her, unbelieving. Could he put off explaining it to her? “No one can know. Not Mike. Not even my Mom. Not anyone.”

Her eyes widened. There were things that Max had told her in ‘confidence.’ She’d had to swear the same thing. She didn’t think she would have that again with anyone else. 

She repeated the words she had said before, solemnly, “I swear. Not a soul.” She crossed her heart.

“But... do you understand why?” The tears weren’t stopping. 

“Because it’s what sisters do.” Max had called her that. Her sister. Now she was Will’s too.

He didn’t have to tell her. She wasn’t asking him to explain. But she needed to know. He realized that he wanted her to know. 

“You… you should know why though.” He wiped his eyes. “Boys… aren’t supposed to like other boys. Like-like them, I mean. Boys are supposed to like girls that way but… But I… I never did.” He covered his face. Why was he ruining this? Why couldn’t he just let her stay ignorant? Why did he have to tell her? He didn’t want to see her reaction. He didn’t want to have to explain it more. The names he was called, the stereotypes that followed them. He wanted to keep them all hidden from her. 

She pulled his hands from his face and held them. “Who gets to write these rules, Will? Because they are bullshit.”

He blinked and caught his breath. 

She looked at him earnestly. “You love who you love. You wear what you want. Your life is yours. No one else’s. You fought so hard to be here. To live. Don’t let others tell you how. You make the rules.”

He saw the defiance. He saw the girl who had to grow up as an experiment in a concrete cage. He saw the girl who had been hidden away in a cabin. He saw all the years of following rules she didn’t get to make. Here, she was coming into her own, and finding her independence. She didn’t want to obey rules she saw no sense in. She wanted Will to be free of those restrictions, too. 

She didn’t understand what it would mean. That he had to hide who he was to survive. That being out to others meant fighting battles every day. Yet, even without her abilities, she had this raw power. Her strength was contagious. She made it easy to believe. They had both fought so hard to live. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was worth the fight.

He asked, “So, we’d get to rewrite them, like, ‘El and Will’s Rules for Life’?”

El nodded. “Our own rules.”

He sniffed and wiped his nose. “I’ll have to come up with some. Maybe you can get the first few started.” 

“Rule one: love who you want.”

Will smiled, “Rule two: makeup is only for badasses and artists.”

El pointed, “Am I a ‘Bad Ass’ or an artist?”

“Both.”

She beamed. “We should start writing these down.” 

Will grabbed a notebook from their homework on the floor. He sat back on the bed and started scrawling. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he wrote.

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this day. To deserve this person in his life, who continually found new ways to save him. After every shit thing that had happened to him, he couldn’t believe that he was allowed to feel this much happiness. There had to be a catch. But he wasn’t going to worry about that now. He was going to sit beside his sister with their rules and let himself feel overrun with joy.


	9. Battle in the Produce Aisle

Will and El wondered around the aisles of the grocery store. Will’s eyes scanning the shelves for the items on sale. El kept piling junk food in the cart. He mentally crunched the numbers and knew it was all out of their budget. He didn’t want to lecture her. She was the only person in the world who knew about him now. After everything she’d done for him, it seemed like it would be nagging.

But he needed to tell her about their financial situation. It would be better telling her now before there was another department store fiasco. 

“Hey, El?”

“Hm?” She said as she put a bag of marshmallows in the cart. 

It took him a moment before he could collect the words together but El was patient, and he always appreciated that. “There are some families that can afford the extra stuff, like Mallomars and Chips Ahoy. They put them in the cart and don’t even think about what it costs. But… our family’s not like that. We always have to think about what the number’s gonna be at the register.”

She looked into the cart and back at Will. “Like the jeans?”

Goddamnit. How did she always see this stuff? He forgot sometimes how observant she was. Despite having little to no clue about most social cues and all ‘the way the world works’ stuff, she could put things together very easily. Like she had all the pieces already and just needed to fit them together.

“Yes.” He answered, “Mom, Jonathan, and I have spent years learning how to make the most from the money we have.”

“These go back then?” 

Will nodded. El picked up the extra things not on the list and returned them to their spots on the shelf. They were walking past the frozen foods and El looked longingly at the Eggos. He knew that they reminded her of home.

“You can get those.”

She turned to him, a question on her face.

“One splurge isn’t a bad thing.” He smiled. El beamed and got the box of waffles from the freezer. 

Will looked around the aisle for peanut butter. It wasn’t next to the bread, like it had been in the stores back home. An associate was stocking the crackers. Why were the crackers in with the bread? What the hell was wrong with this store??

Will asked, “Umm. Excuse me. Could you tell me where the peanut butter is?”

“Aisle one.”

Will asked, “Next to the produce?!” He couldn’t keep the judgement out of his voice.

The guy looked at him, like the soul had been sucked out of him, “I just stock the shelves, man.”

Will bit his lip. “Okay. Sorry. Thanks.”

He felt a little embarrassed. He definitely pulled a suburban-mom-moment there. Why did it even matter? ‘Because peanut butter should always be next to the bread!’ He mentally groaned. He felt like he was playing a game of Pong. Constantly bouncing from one aisle to the next trying to check the items off his list. Still, he hadn’t meant to be one of “those” customers. He’d heard enough stories about people like that from his mother and Jonathan. People who quoted, “The customer is always right,” as if it were a bible verse. 

They finally got the peanut butter and were about to head to the registers. Will noticed El standing by the produce aisle, fixed to the spot and staring ahead. 

“El?”

And then he heard a familiar voice. From that day in the locker room, “Aw, come on. Just seven little numbers and I let you go back to sorting oranges.”

Will couldn’t hear much of the response, but he heard the pleading “please.” The scared, cornered feeling in this girl’s voice. 

“Excuse me,” someone said as they tried to get around Will’s cart.

“Oh, Sorry.” He pulled up to El.

“We need to go.”

She looked back at him and the look she gave him made Will squirm. 

“There are always gonna be guys like this, El. This is what they do.”

Her nostrils flared and she shook her head. “Not while I’m around.” She grabbed a toilet paper roll and flung it at the leering thug. 

It hit him square in the shoulder.

She looked at him with her death stare. “She said no, Jack Ass.”

The thug turned and Will could see the girl’s face as it changed from fear to relief. Will felt ashamed at his cowardice. How many times had he wished for someone to intervene when Troy and his goons were on the prowl? The jackass started walking towards El. Will stepped in between before he could get closer. 

“What are you trying to do?” He laughed, “You trying to play tough, fag?”

In that moment, when Will should have felt intimidated, fearful of the guy nearly a head taller than him… he wasn’t afraid. He couldn’t make sense of it. He had spent his life ducking away from those accusing words, denying them. But today… the word had missed its mark. Men made the word seem like it was the worst thing someone could be… effeminate, gay. To be marked with such a word was the equivalent of a pirate receiving the black spot. But he had stared actual death in the face more times that this asshole could count. The bluster, the act was all just that. An act.

It took off a weight, he felt a power, and he laughed.

“You know what I just realized?” He chided, “This is all you have. The highlight of your day is towering over someone and throwing your weight around as if people have any reason to be afraid of you.”

“I can give you five reasons you have every reason to be pissing your pants right now.” He closed his fist and and pounded in his hand. It was so cartoonish, it was funny. 

“What are you going to do? Hit me in a grocery store?” He laughed, “One day you’ll realize that there are things that are actually terrifying. Things that would snap you like a twig. You say that word, ‘fag’ like I should be afraid of it. But I’m not. You are.” He took a step closer. “Because if God forbid anyone call you that, you’d lose this.” He gestured at the space between them. “You’d have nothing to look forward to.”

“I’m gonna make you eat those words, you faggot.”

Will smiled. “I’m not the one afraid of that word, faggot.” 

The towering boy’s eyes filled with rage and he pulled his fist back but suddenly dropped. El had kicked the back of his knee and thrown him off. She grabbed Will’s hand and pulled him out of the store. 

They ran out the door and down the street. Will heard his feet against the pavement. The adrenaline shooting through him. He had been ready to fight. He had been ready to take that jackass’s fist to his face. Being forced to run had set his brain in motion. The swell of confidence, the feeling of power, had gone back out like the tide. As he ran, he remembered the feeling but couldn’t rationalize it.

It didn’t matter how many times he had stared death in the face. He was human. He could still be broken, like he’d nearly been in the locker room. Why had he said those things to him? What had he done?

Will was running out of breath. El pulled him into the space between two shops. They doubled over trying to get the wind back in their lungs. 

“Damnit, El. I didn’t want to get into it back there.”

“You damnit. You were gonna let that jackass…”

“Do you even know what he was trying to do?”

“He was scaring her. That’s all I need to know.”

“What you need to know is that we are fucking screwed for food this week. What we needed was to get groceries. We needed to help our family.”

El was furious, but a small part of her felt guilty. He’d said ‘our family’ without hesitation. And there was the sudden feeling that she let him down. She wouldn’t let it show though. She didn’t look at him.

She seethed. “So, if someone is in trouble, let them deal with it alone. Is that what you do? Just ignore it because you are more important?”

Will leaned his head back against the bricks. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying you need to learn to pick your battles.”

“People ‘picking battles’ are why mouth breathers keep doing it. And why are you on his side? You were arguing with him. You were winning. We won. It was the right battle.”

Will took deep gulps of air, avoiding the question. There was a fearlessness in that moment with the thug. It was an old feeling of power. A feeling that hadn’t been his but another’s. But he still remembered it. That guy in there could beat him to a pulp but if the horrors of the other world ever came, Will would survive. He would find a way. 

El continued, “You weren’t scared of him. You called him that name back.”

It was funny. She was picking up new swears and insults all the time, but she still refused to say that word. She didn’t recycle words that bullies threw at them. As if her insults had standards.

Will answered, “It felt good to say it at the time. It felt good to have that. But now we have to go home empty handed. Now Jonathan will have to be the one to go to the grocery store in addition to working because we couldn’t stay out of trouble. I can’t work a job, El. Mom won’t let me. She says I need to focus because my grades have slipped. So this was my way to help. This was how we contributed. I don’t want to be a burden on them anymore. I want to hold my own where I can. Can’t you understand that?”

“Then, we go back and get our groceries.”

“He’ll be waiting for us.”

“Fuck him. It’s a battle worth fighting. Not being afraid is worth fighting for. We’ve fought scarier things. I don’t want to be afraid of him.”

And Will caught something in her voice. He looked at her and could tell, she had seen herself in that girl. She had seen someone vulnerable, cowering before that guy. El didn’t have her powers and was having to learn what it meant to be ‘normal.’ The idea of being as scared as that girl… it was a normal El would never let herself accept. 

Will approached El, hesitantly. “I don’t either.” He reached out and gave her a side hug. Or he tried to, but she threw both of her arms around him and pulled him in. She wouldn’t speak it. She wouldn’t say it. But he could feel it in the grip of her embrace. El was scared about never having that power again. Of living her life without the abilities that had saved her. She wanted to learn to fight without them. That she could fight without them. 

El had been at his side so many times. She was always ready to fight for him. The least he could do was return the favor.

“Let’s get our groceries while we still have some daylight.”

___________________________

They walked back to the store, waiting for the thug to be there. But he was nowhere in sight. 

When they got inside, they saw the girl behind customer service. Her eyes were red from crying. She stood up and the manager looked over at them. 

“These the two?” They heard him say. She nodded.

He waved and walked over to them. He stopped once he got closer and dropped his voice. “Mary told me about what happened.”

Will waited with baited breath for the consequences. Would there be a police report? Would they be banned from the store?

“That boy has apparently been hounding her for some time. I appreciate you both stepping in. I’ve reached out to the boy’s parents and they know now he’s not to come into this store without them again. And as for the two of you… while a toilet paper roll, isn’t exactly throwing a gauntlet… It is undeniable that you were both hitching to fight that boy. I can not abide by violence in my store.”

Will and El stood nervously. Will’s stomach was in a knot.

He continued, “There are better ways to solve something like that. The next time you see something like that, you tell one of us behind the desk and we’ll handle it. And if you see that boy hanging around the parking lot, looking for more trouble, you tell me and he’ll be put straight. Understand?”

They both nodded. 

“Alright, then. Do you want your cart? We saved it for ya.”

“Thank you,” Will said earnestly. 

“Thank you,” El echoed. She was looking at the girl behind the counter. While Will went over to get the cart rung up, El walked over to the counter. Will saw the girl hand El the toilet paper roll and they laughed. And then Will saw El’s light. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have powers. She was able to save someone. It was just who she was. 

Will knew he’d have to come to terms with the fact that she would never be the type of person to back down. That meant he’d have to stand by her in out-matched fights. It might also mean physically plucking her out of the war path. But, all things considered, that wasn’t so bad. It was worth it to have her in his corner.


End file.
